For
Have you been in a state in which you are about to fall deeply asleep, and the narrative voice in your dream is emerging. It’s as if you are about to enter another realm of world, the world as lucid and tangible as the reality. But all the sudden. there comes the sober awakening, your eyelids jerk open, your brain gains consciousness rapidly. For that spilt of second, you simultaneously experience a peculiar sense, a rather emotive, inexplicable feeling from deep inside.
What is it that you feel? Fatigue? Vertigo? Nausea?
Having ruled out all potentialities of a great tragedy, Life dulls itself in front of me.
I am constantly depressed by the fact that I live my life in three different universes, all tangent to each other–of the reality, of the ideologies, and of the pessimism.
The Universe of Reality is accompanied with an enormous sense of nausea.
The Universe of extreme Ideologies, often glittering with rush of good hopes, dying to make life significant in the way I consider it to be. It is nevertheless shaded with Fatigue. Passionate in one day and nonchalant the next.
The Universe of Pessimism is the world of my ultimate sanctuary, it is the world of literature (or my very own make-believe literature). It is a world of excruciating beauty and tender affliction. It is, to my utmost dismay and utmost desire, the finality.
Vertigo, the fear and desire to break away (and the realization thereof), is holding my world from being shattered into countless pieces with a subtle yet substantial force.
Wandering amid the three universes, the mere thought of rejection or admission grows nebulous. It is like some abstract entity (it is, de facto) that I could only help to visualize using various melodramatic scenes–The scarlet letters of the word “Congratulations;” The roars of overjoy; popping sound of champagnes; the restrained smile from my father’s face…. Or the thin letter written in euphemism; the soothing talks and patting on back; the disappointed sighs and helpless looks; the sullen sky; the unwilling yet inevitable realization of, Failure.
“Getting In” per se has evolved to something significant not to me, but to my life and others within it, and has lost its originally meaningfulness to me along the way.
It is, and has always been, the glory that excites me, that’s making it worthy at all. And the rest? However I try to rationalize (or de-rationalize), I see no clear temptations whatsoever. Ha, how ironic.
Yet the idea of “Getting Rejected” has grown less and less disturbing and fearsome. Such dispassionate attitude comes with even more fear of me becoming “careless.”
Shall I be Denied? The above self-claim seems to provide no answer for this important question.
I am, however, with incessant efforts, trying to eliminate the nauseous feeling.
From day to day, the hope of admission has become the twinkling twilight emitted off of the fireflies in a summer of Midwest, so elusive and mesmerizing. Yet somehow, its brightness lights up the day, though transient and ephemeral.
It is a long psychological battle of waiting for the draw of lottery. A lottery that I once believed will DECIDE my fate. The mere thought of “getting it” excites me. With great uncertainty and anxiety I wait for such unlikely outcome. The Greater the Expectation, the Greater the Disappointment.
However, I have come to realize that this is all about destiny. This is not even the slightest indication of a future. This might be a recognition of my past 12 or so years of achievements (in their own very limited way) If I was meant not to get it, then the hell with it.
In the past few month my values and beliefs have almost been destructed to ground completely. I seem to have discovered the truth about knowledge, and developed a passion within. The truth is, to be simple, learning what I want and be true with myself. Shall I one day accomplish such difficult task, I am heading to the true happiness and meaningfulness of life.
My Character is My Destiny
Fortune, turn thy wheel, for I shall not be deined.
