A Reflection of my Frustration: Trying, that alone is a rebellion against monotony. 

Life feels monotonous these days—or maybe it has always been this way? In adulthood, everything seems to revolve around work. My mind often wanders to the weight of responsibilities: how to pay bills, manage tasks and save money. 

I am just your average office person, always in front of computer screen. Daily paperwork is in my vision, and even after regularization, I'm still at the "testing the waters" with my co-workers. Most of the time, when frustrations visit my cabin more than usual, it makes me want to go back and focus instead on things I love doing. 

A person can only do so much.

In the situation I currently live in, it's inspiring to meet someone who manages to balance their job and their passion—incorporating it so seamlessly into their daily life. We all have the choice to do that, I suppose. But when the body is worn out and begging to rest, it's natural to give in. And so, the time for passion often slips away. 

I've been complaining a lot about missing my creative pursuits—but I've been trying. I'm not really a night person when it comes to these things; I usually end up dozing off on my couch or seat. Still, there's this hunger inside me—a quiet longing not to leave them behind. Sometimes, even though I think I'm becoming rusty as the time passes by, I refuse to let this kind of love go. Now, it takes me a week to finish a single entry of blog, rather than before that only few hours and it's done. 

Funny, isn't it?

At night, I often think about people who once longed to pursue their passions—whatever they may be—but slowly, the weight of long-term priorities drains the life out of them. So, they begin to live, little by little, without those passions. Unconsciously. Quietly. Until one day, the realization hits.

Oh, right. I’m an artist.

Then, the ghost of yesterday, burning passion, and fun in every stroke linger. The memories of doing what we love like it’s the most important thing in the world are haunting us. Going back to it feels like someone who’s been bedridden for years trying to walk again—wobbly, unsure, but desperate to move.

Some may think you can just choose your passion; why endure the mediocrity of limited time?

Darling, I’m not the only one who finds that choice a luxury and privilege. I hope so. I can just hope, the cost of living in this reality is too much.

Writing, music, journaling, and art—are parts of myself I can’t let go of. I believe they embody my existence. Even if I don’t always look like it, these are the things that make me feel alive. People around me who share the same pursuits or simply support me in mine makes my life better.

I never expected art to find its way into my life. But I’m glad it did. 

I can still see myself complain time to time about work and responsibilities and that's normal. But having something to look forward to—something that makes you feel alive—makes life a little easier to bear.

To youth, to the young people out there, do not box yourselves in, explore more and be free. It's our first time to live a life, and it’s natural to discover that it is sloppy, but we can make it beautiful as we walk.

 
Sincerely yours, 

Janzzyy.