It was supposed to be a beautiful day. But anxiety took the better part of it. From every rising thought to my resting breath, deliberations of the future permeate the scope of my mind.
Will I make it? Will these plans come to fruition? Would this truly work out? These are some of the skepticisms that plague the minds of youngsters in their late teens and early twenties, myself included. The dread of what would happen if the future does not end up the way we plan haunt us with each passing day.
It does not make it easier when you come across your colleagues flourishing, enjoying all the luxurious things, driving the Teslas and brandishing their Dior and you wonder what they're doing that you're not. You wonder where it went right for them and why it's going wrong for you.
All the motivational speakers say it would soon be my turn. They say not all fingers are equal. They say comparison is the thief of joy. They say I'll be fine. But when? When would I truly be fine? When would I look back and think this was all worth it?
Would I end up like that uncle on my father's side who owns fleets of cars and a conglomerate of businesses? Even though he cut everyone off because he believes everyone is after his property, he has made it, has he not? He is living the life, is he not? Or would I wind up like that drunk at the corner of the street whose wife left him because he was unable to pay their bills and took solace in the temporary euphoria alcohol affords?
The future truly is not certain. And no one really knows tomorrow.
As I conjure all these strategic plans for survival and acquire an education to ensure I am relevant to society, I cannot get rid of the fear that builds up within me. I cannot calm the demoralising thoughts that are set ablaze in my mind by the conflagrations of pessimism ignited by my very own thoughts. They echo and feed the flames of my anxiety, causing me to worry and worry more. I know they are not going to stop until I am where I want to be, until I have built that empire of wealth for myself, until I am at the pinnacle of self-actualisation.
Even though my insides are set on fire by these thoughts, I know deep down in my soul that I would be alright. I know it would all work out someday, and I would look back at these days and wonder why I was fretting so much. And whenever that sliver of hope finally manages to break free and calm my nerves for a split second, I hear that voice in the head that reminds me to do my best, and that my best would be enough. It reminds me to keep on working harder, to persevere, and it would all make sense one day. Its soothing whisper is a reminder that I would be just fine,
“Hush, child! Don't you worry”
