It's No Fun On A Swing

Vacillate.

If there is one thing that I consistently do, it is to vacillate.

If I may speak in jest, yes, it is a habit. But no -- it has been my sickness.

Everyday before going to work, I would think of what to wear. I would try something on, then suddenly shrug it off. It would take time before I can really decide what to wear. At work, we always have the same question when hunger strikes, "Anong kakainin/bibilhin mo?" I also have the same answer, "Hindi ko alam kung ano." These are only few of the daily questions I battle to answer, small problems I struggle to resolve. And it sucks not to know how to simply choose.

Likewise for the past days, two of my friends are consistently persuading me -- and bribing me as well -- to join their Baler trip this coming Friday. Though it has long been planned, I keep on refusing since I am psychologically, physically, and financially not ready. I was one of those who earlier planned for our original getaway trip, which was actually compromised for some reason so I pulled myself out. Yes, my friends can't help but complain about my backing-out-in-the-last-minute attitude. I want to go with them -- but I can't.

I remember my college days when I had tough times in between, standing in the brink of giving up during those four years of hauling within the scholastic pillars of Adamson with the hope of turning out to be "someone" if not to realistically become a great catalyst of change. I remember those times when life called on me to make a choice and decide -- it heavily enervated me. I wouldn't likely be able to make it through those times if not for my loving family and friends who helped me narrow down my options and pushed me to do and go for the things I really wanted -- because I was too weak to decide on my own.

Those who know me from a superficial surface of this world cannot attest to my indecisiveness, pessimism, and timidity. On a cursory level, a friend would not know how long it would take me to shop, (it's a given sickness for girls but I think mine's a terrible case), how restless I become with things I want and I need to do, how fidgety I become when waiting, and how inferior I am when in doubt. But people who know me to bits and pieces would probably want to whack my head when wavering attacks and then I back out.

All these I'm saying because something hit me today. A friend was insisting, "No, seriously. Career talk."

I had to shy away from it. I always do. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I sometimes think that whenever I am commended for something, (and I do not acknowledge it) especially when it comes to my writing, my inferiority complex is mistaken for my arrogance. But I cannot think of ways on how I can genuinely address that I seriously do not have enough confidence to believe.

It really sucks to be a little girl in a playground, alone on a swing, swinging back and forth, with or without someone behind to push me; a girl who in no way can go elsewhere unless I take risk, lose my grip, and try other things.

Why in the world do I get tired of this sickness and yet do nothing to cure it? This is ridiculous. No, I am ridiculous.

Unless I learn how to simplify life and not to exacerbate things, choose and decide not to falter, I would stay where I am today and lead to nowhere.