I'm 27 years old.
All of the actors who I watched when I was a kid are now playing parents on television. That, or parents hiding a superhero identity.
Most of the pop acts that were around during my childhood have broken up, and reunited again.
Some of the songs I like are actually over twenty years old now. Guess I won't hear them on the radio anymore.
It's come to the point when I can talk about things that happened "back in my time". Ten years is a long time ago, yes.
"Did you ever have fitness class?"
"No. Remember, I was 105. That started from 106."
My friends - some of them have families now.
I know there's no rush, but too many people have asked me when I'll be getting married. That question makes me cringe, but I cannot say that out loud.
Those who don't are either engaged, or are seemingly quite enjoying their lives. They always seem to be out and about, on vacation. Not exotic places - that's a different kind of filthy rich - but frequently enough, and of their own volition, to be suspicious.
The people I've been meeting and dealing with - they're all younger than me now. Fresh graduates, or those who've been out for two, three years.
Those very people now have the word "senior" in their job titles.
That's never happened to me.
I don't know what it feels like to actually move up.
I've wondered if the problem partly stems down from the fact that people have had high expectations of me. "Matalino siyang bata," they all said, no glimpses of how I am crushed, on a daily basis, by my feelings of failure.
Sure, perhaps the definition of success is a problem, and perhaps it's all about being happy with what you do and all that. Sure, I've felt content before. Had the thrill. But in the end, I still go to sleep with that crushing feeling of being a failure.
Shame, they say. You're actually talented and smart, but you keep on thinking too much.
In the end, it's my fault why I go to sleep at night feeling like this, knowing that, even if I live a comfortable life and can afford to have preferences, I really am stuck in whatever this is. It's not that they don't appreciate you. They do. And, really, you're really worth nothing.
I'm really worth nothing.
I'm 27 years old, and despite all that I apparently can do and all that I apparently know, I'm really worth nothing.
And so it goes.
7/05/2016
View this blog's entries from
Niko Batallones writes The Upper Blog.
Subscribe to this blog,
follow him on Twitter,
or check out earthings!,
his music blog (of sorts).
Unless otherwise stated, this blog's content is owned by Niko Batallones. No part of this blog may be reproduced elsewhere without proper permission and attribution.
All opinions stated in this blog are solely those of the writer's, and does not reflect those of his employers, or the organizations he is affiliated with.
Some photographs have been edited using post-production curves from Shalla Yu.
Powered by Blogger. Established in 2005.
View this blog's entries from
I do the same.
Post a Comment