I'm so disgusted with myself. Here I am, sitting in front of my computer as I do for hours a day, my droopy eyes glued to the screen. My $1000+ a month apartment, which my parents are paying for because I'm too unmotivated to find a job, is a pigsty, with wrappers and dishes strewn about.
I just came back from a place where I blew another ~$200 of my parents' money, wondering whether someone like me is really cut out for becoming a working professional who has to have the motivation to wake up early in the morning and go to work at the same time every weekday. My parents keep comparing me to my friends, asking me to be more like them (i.e. earning their own money, working at decent jobs). As irritating as it is when they do that, I secretly agree--no one my age should be like this. It's shameful, especially in a country that respects individuality and self-sufficiency. I should be a laughingstock.
Any other person would have lit a fire under his or her rear end a long time ago in order to find a job, earn a living, and live independently. I admire my successful friends with enviable work ethic, listen to my parents nag about jobs and exercise, daydream about finally having my own money to waste however I wish, and remind myself that I still do want to achieve my dream...and yet, I just can't find the motivation.
Before I left, they packed my books and the multiple stacks of printouts. I was pumped. I was ready to conquer this beast. My parents printed out five copies of all the questions in the book, telling me to do them all. Telling me that they believed in me. I thought: "I'm not going to fail this time. I don't fail twice." I had everything at my disposal--plenty of time, materials, and youthful energy. I had a good month or so, so I figured I had time.
As it turns out, this was the worst thing I could have done. The month dwindled to a mere two weeks, then one week, then five days. On the very last day, I finally lit my butt on fire, so to speak. Foregone conclusion--it's too little, too late. I walked into that room, sat in front of that computer, and realized that nothing stuck. The words might as well have been in Hindi.
When they realize that I failed (don't doubt it) despite having everything I needed, they'll be disappointed, to say the least. Again, they'll wonder where they went wrong. Again, they'll follow me to my room to confront me and ask me what exactly is going on in my head. They'll ask me if I need one of them to come back and watch over me to make sure I'm doing what I should be doing. I'll say no, like I always do. Like it always does, my regret will subside in a few days' time. I'll probably end up recycling each stack of printouts, too cowardly to face something that will bring out feelings of shame.
