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"To philosophize, one must confess" -Hajime Tanabe
Therefore, I confess.

Therefore, I'll write here like no one's reading. No, not that I want to philosophize, it's just... I need to write down things. I feel this urge to catharsize. Fuck grammar, fuck audience, fuck everything. I'm writing now for no one but me. Sometimes, we gotta be selfish for our own good, yes?

So... where should I start from?

Okay, I'll start from thing I want. People say, pursue what you really want. But the problem is, what I want now seems non-sense and worthless to most people around me. But I understand, they just can't understand. They never be in my shoes. I am.

So, it's okay. I fully acknowledge my consequence. My willingness is stronger than my body, beyond my limit, and worth more than what's tangible. And nothing worth having comes easy, yes?

But for what comes easy, one must still struggle. Like Sisyphus. And now, I feel like Sisyphus. Doing worthless task but still, a task is a task. No matter how worthless it is at the end, you have to do what you are told to.

As what Albert Camus said "One must imagine Sisyphus happy", I try to take it easy, let it go, and do things light-heartedly. But in fact, I don't, but I have no other option for now. Either I focus on that thing-I-want but still do what I do, or consider another thing to do but set that thing-I-want as my second priority.

Choices, choices, choices. Life is all about choices. Either you choose or choose. Even not choosing is a choice. If there's thing besides time and uncertainty that is certain, it's choice. Choice is a destiny, to choose what to choose is a choice. Period.

For thing I do now, for thing I choose, I'm stuck. Everything runs so-so. No significant development. Maybe because I don't try really hard. Well, actually I mindfully and purposely don't force myself to work harder, so I have to accept the truth that I get what I give: so-so result.

Well, it's not that i don't try at all. I try. But maybe not in that "try so hard to get best result" way, but "try so hard to like what I do though what I do is not what I like" way. But I fail. I try again, and I fail again. My heart doesn't belong there. It never does in the first place.

And as what Sisyphus does, it just sucks to see the rock you're pushing to the hill rolls down again, and you have to start everything over again, again, and over again. It's kinda heartbreaking you know, to see what you put sweat on is all useless.

Well, anyway, who can control what's going beyond our reach, yes? What we can control is how we react through it. But to react wisely, it's easier said than done.

Because one does not simply imagine Sisyphus happy.

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