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Laundry On Sundaes

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

I would begin this post with an apology for not having updated this blog for more than 3 weeks now, but I doubt anyone cared enough to be still following it anyway, so why bother.

The fact is, I had been quite depressed for the first 2 weeks or so since I got back to New York. And I’m not using the word “depressed” as I usually do in a casual conversation, when I simply mean that I’m upset over something and will get over it within a few hours. I was very seriously unhappy for longer than I have ever been. I lost interest in nearly all the things I used to enjoy. I lost my appetite. I even considered taking a year off from college. To do what? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was unhappy here. And it made me very confused and afraid, because I had not expected this to happen. After all, I was so excited to come back. But once I was back, I wasn’t happy. Why? I’m still not sure. I think it might have been the mixed effect of the 12-hour time difference, homesickness, not wanting summer to end, the (sudden? devastating?) realization that I’m no longer a child, and perhaps something else.

I did consider seeing a therapist for a few days, but I decided to stick it out for a bit longer to see if I would feel any better. I did. I guess I can say that I’m mostly back to normal now, besides a few short-lived depressive episodes here and there. Life goes on.

But that does not mean that I’m no longer struggling. With what? A lot of things. Like what I want to major in. What I want to do in the future. What I want as a career. It seems like I no longer know the answer to any of these questions, but I feel the urgent need to start doing things that would help me get… wherever it is that I want to be in the future. What am I doing here? I have no idea. All I know is that I have books to read, papers to write, exams to take, labs to prepare for (all of which I am procrastinating from right now as I write this). But what for? I’ve lost sight of the higher purpose of my education. It seems as though everyone else around me is working towards something, anything, everyone except for me. Every time I step into my intro biology class of 200-something eager M.D.-wannabes, I feel… ashamed? Stressed? I don’t know. Like I should be as eager and driven as they are, and yet… I am not.

There is no more passion in my life. The banality of it all is making me weary. I need to find something to live for.

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