November 22nd, 2010

Charah coffee

Don't look back in anger.

I'm going through some of my Year 1 entries - written five years ago - and I think it's pretty sad how I'm feeling almost exactly the same things that I felt during that period.

Just to recap, I considered Year 1 of law school to be the worst year of my life. Of course, that was before I started work; now, I can't decide if starting law school as a 19-year-old who just wanted to dissect literary works all day long is a crueller fate than starting work in the legal profession as a 24-year-old who doesn't quite want to dissect literary works anymore, but can't decide on what she really wants to do (or rather, it's more accurate to say she doesn't have the guts to definitively pronounce on that point. Like anti-activitist judges who are afraid to be seen as legislating for the legislature).

Then again, I think the answer is pretty clear. I'd rather rant all day long about how I had no interest in studying for my Contract Law exam because I find it as interesting as washing the dishes than to feel a sense of dread that clutches at my chest every single fucking day when I think about going to work, or when I see the fucking red light blinking on my fucking Blackberry. On some days, I'm literally afraid to check my email; on other days, I'm literally afraid of going to work.

It's sad how the angst and the unhappiness have remained substantially the same; they've merely taken on different forms. At the heart of it though, I'm still the same 19-year-old drowning in her misery every single day that she had to attend law school.

Except, I'm not - except, I think I'm even more unhappy now, if that's possible. But why not? My time has been monopolised by this false idol* we call work; instead of spending two hours a day feeling completely alienated in Contract lecture, I'm spending more than 9 hours a day feeling absolutely dead inside. And whereas I still had some zest and some spark in my writing back then, nowadays I barely write anymore - and I'm strictly talking about this journal.

(*credit to glasswindow for this wonderful metaphor.)

Oh, I don't even know. I'm combing through my archives in an attempt to understand (or at least to know) why I didn't leave when I had the chance. I was absolutely shattered by Cambridge's rejection; being the over-achiever that I am, I think I banked all my hopes on that school and gave up when it didn't materialise.

That was pretty stupid of me. That was actually really fucking stupid. I really did want to go to Warwick though, if only because the course was Literature and Creative Writing. But King's College London wouldn't have been disastrous either.

I just - I spent an hour crying last night and in my typical emotional state, thought a lot of extreme thoughts, such as what's the point to everything if we're all just gonna die; life is so fucking pointless; I don't want this anymore; but I also latched at the choice that I failed to make and it made me cry even harder. It's so obvious to me now that it was the choice that I should have made; it's really only because law school turned out fantastic in the end, thanks to the awesome electives that I took, AND making Dean's List in Year 4, that I don't completely regret it.

But I do regret it somewhat, and that's enough for me.

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