too long won’t read: i feel like an imposter in different areas; idk why i’m writing at all but i’m still doing it cuz i like it; self-love is confusing cuz of the blurry line to selfishness. lastly, lots of appreciation to people who have been there for/with me this year, and happy holidays to everyone.

hey friends,

it’s been like a month now – how have y’all been doing? let’s catch up. the thrill of the weekly post ended quite shortly, as expected before i even started the whole thing. (at this point, i can’t distinguish if it was a self-fulfilling prophecy or just laziness anymore.)

life is full of ups and downs, and unfortunately, for the last few weeks, i found myself situated in the downs. i allowed myself to take a break from my own thoughts, living a relatively repetitive life that gave me some sort of energy. it’s a paradox to me; in order to think, i need to break out from repetitiveness. but the breakout costs much more than the action itself – it’s like a self-interrogation.

as i sit here and write sh*t down at this moment, in the back of my mind, i’m thinking about the Anki cards i need to go through today. i’ve kinda lost the ability to prioritize my tasks. recently, whenever i wanted to write, i shook the idea off by putting it off and off until i couldn’t remember the thought anymore. and THAT is bad.

there have been some thoughts that have been stuck with me for some time, which haven’t been forgotten (thank god) before i stare at the blank page, trying to dig something out of the grooves of my brain. now it’s time to share – or more like a thought dump LOL.

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every time i write, i’d warn myself not to overshare. however, i find the definition of oversharing unclear. to some, it’s exposing even the tiniest bit of themselves, while to others, it’s not telling strangers their home address. i fall somewhere in between. if i discover something is too personal, i simply take it down and learn from the mistake. yeah, i learn my lessons the hard way.

1. an imposter?

  a. i often observe the pervasive use of the term “imposter” in my generation. but of course i’m no sociological expert, i can’t make any definite conclusion of this phenomenon. nonetheless, the universal embrace of the “imposter syndrome” includes me and a bunch of others.

  b. academically, i consider myself semi-intelligent – smart but average. in conversations with myself, i struggle with the nature of success, questioning whether luck played a grater role than merit. the paradox of acknowledging failure while feeling like an imposter in success becomes a constant companion in my journey.

  c. within the sphere of intimacy, my internal dialogue resonates with self-criticism – “not pretty enough,” “bad temper,” “incapable of love.” these thoughts possibly rooted in insecurities or low self-esteem, but i put it within the framework of imposter syndrome. understanding my own virtues becomes a struggle, perpetually entangled in the search of self-worth.

  d. emotional encounters become another quandary as i interrogate the authenticity of my feelings. questions like “am i pretending my emotions?” permeate my introspective moments. despite feeling the emotions, the nagging skepticism precedes my expression, turning each emotional act into a potential imposture.

  e. during the recent hiatus, i used the challenges faced by others during finals and my own struggles created by the external sources as rationales for my absence. yet, this introspection morphed into self-gaslighting, a subtle attempt to excuse my lapse. the internal debate of realism vs. self-indulgence unfolds, revealing some ethical complexities of personal responsibility and external circumstances.

  f. i recognize myself in the paradoxical identity of a “lazy overachiever” as i mentioned in the last post – a consistent and solid mental framework that turns positivity into negativity. this curious form of self-motivation through self-sabotage is my psychological network. achievements, from writing to weekly gym sessions, lose their sheen if not accompanied by a burnout, reflecting the restless within.

  g. i certainly don’t have a quick fix to this problem, or thought, or issue. what i can do is to construct a more substantial illusion of a cognitive masterpiece to convince myself that i am not an imposter. this whole thing becomes a pursuit of existential authenticity, where the fractured self seeks reconciliation with an idealized, albeit illusory, sense of genuine being.

2. what’s writing to ME?

  a. i wonder what makes a writer or thinker “good.” if i express myself without aiming to connect with readers, am i a bad writer? yet, writing solely for views feels fraudulent. the middle ground is crafting ideas in a way the public can understand. but then, is it all just entertainment with the writer as a medium for info transmission?

  b. i enjoy writing and thinking, but what’s the point? do i want to be heard? am i searching for the “truth?” the answer to the former: sure, but it’s not the top priority. then why have a blog if being heard isn’t crucial? the answer to the latter: there’s no absolute truth. then what am i doing here? (man, i receive almost no feedback anyway, and i’m sitting here, worrying about if i’m being heard LOL.)

  c. to be heard, i must create something entertaining. yet, i resist writing solely for entertainment. my rebellion is writing for its own sake – maybe another excuse for my limitations or a form of self-sabotage.

  d. i feel stupid when writing, encountering walls of unknown knowledge. delving deeper could take years, and self-sabotage clouds my mind, even on straightforward topics like DNA replication. (how can i be SURE if i don’t read every single article about the topic?)

  e. i admit that i’m not adept in either language. my chinese and english fall short, hindering proper self-expression. learning the language seems a solution, but it’s a delay tactic. so, i use plain words, creating a chaotic portrayal of my mind.

  f. after points a to e, i concluded that writing matters to me. i cast aside standards and expectations, writing unseen. yet, i acknowledge responsibility to avoid unintentional harm with my words. for example, i’m pretty sure that my all lowercase is going to make some people go “ughh”, apologies first, but that’s who i am and how i construct my last post of 2023.

  g. in our peculiar era, every action faces inner or external resistance. as an old saying goes: “don’t be a p*ssy; choose and commit.” balancing personal conviction and consideration for others becomes the challenge in this strange landscape we inhabit.

3. what is self-love?

  a. as the year ends and i approach 23 (still 4 months away fyi), i’m still trying to figure out the connection between love and self-love. following the last point from the previous section, i’m pondering where the line between self-love and selfishness lies.

  b. recently, a thought-provoking video (don’t remember which) emphasized the significance of focusing on our own needs and desire instead of dedicating all our time and energy to serving others.

  c. memories are like threads weaving our personal stories. life is short, and only a few significant moments stick with us. these moments replay in our minds like fleeting clips. living solely for oneself or loving oneself seems paradoxical. to do so, we navigate societal structures, social roles, material pursuits, and consumerism – parameters that dictate our survival and well-being.

  d. pursuing “living for oneself” involves conforming to social norms and structures. we play roles and participate in societal life, raising questions about the feasibility of exclusively living for oneself.

  e. in reality, we are connected to the world around us, shaped by collective history and societal frameworks. our lives involve moments of engaging with and contributing to others’ well-being. balancing individual fulfillment and societal contribution forms our existence. 

  f. apologies for the rambling. my point is, self-love is a social construct. we can’t truly love ourselves without interacting with others. learning to love ourselves happens through loving others and receiving love from the world. (IMO!!)

  g. love is a complicated subject, and i may revisit it next year. it’s a deep topic, and not everyone can make it this far reading through my nonsense anyway LOL.

  h. how does this thought connect to the previous two? firstly, these topics have been extensively discussed throughout history, with MANY experts in these fields. this abundance of existing discussion has hindered me form writing about them for a LONG time. secondly, delving into these unknown questions triggers the paradoxical imposter syndrome. the feelings of stupidity and lack of knowledge merge into a mountain of frustration. so, here we are, navigating the complexities of thought and self-expression. i really want to make another point, but my brain is deep fried at this point already, so that pretty much sums it up.

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at the end of this post and the end of 2023, i want to thank everyone who has been with me, as well as the tons of others who have either actively or passively impacted me. it has been a wild year for me personally, but whose isn’t while they are still in their early 20s? i’m grateful for everyone i’ve encountered this year. thank you all for showing up in my life and creating some of the most precious pieces of my own self. during this holiday season, i wish you all the best and happy holidays🎄love yourself a bit more in the upcoming year, and may everything be smooth for you!

lots of love with some extraaa love than usual,

lin

p.s. if you really make it sooo far to this point, i apologize for the structure and logic of my writing. it will get better.

hi friends! as finals season approaches, i’ve taken a moment to reflect on my past tendencies to place excessive demands on myself. wishing each of you tremendous success in your upcoming finals and graduate applications for the Class of 2024. best of luck!

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“It seems like you ask for a lot from yourself,” my friend said. When she inquired about my feelings regarding my consistent gym attendance over the years, I nonchalantly shrugged and replied, “I’m proud, but it’s not something to overly boast about. Deep down, I’m always unimpressed by myself, thinking, ‘you could’ve done better.'”

Caught up in the current era’s hustle culture, I found myself competing not only with others but against my own will. Yet, today, I’ve come to realize that I lost a part of myself along the way. Despite being inherently lazy and having modest expectations, I somehow transformed into one of those high achievers in our materialistic world.

Competition was never my cup of tea. While other kids my age fought for candies, I would stand there patiently, waiting for the chaos to subside. In crowded situations like boarding buses or metros, I preferred lingering behind, content to be the last one. Even on my swimming team, where everyone raced for the first place, I found satisfaction in claiming the last spot. It took me a decade to truly grasp the meaning of competition.

The question lingers: Is my ambition an authentic part of me, aka is it an biological instinct, or did it stem from external influences? This internal conflict becomes another layer of my struggle—a clash between a deeply ingrained high self-standard and a natural inclination toward laziness.

As I reflect on the changes I’ve undergone over the years, something doesn’t quite align with who I used to be. A once laid-back individual, I find myself becoming increasingly unimpressed with my own achievements, always striving to instill more discipline to enhance myself.

This inner desire for improvement seems fueled by the pressures of the modern environment. It parallels the pursuit of various goals, where the allure of accomplishments sometimes appears hollow and lacking true substance.

The friend introduced grounding techniques to tether me to reality, a realm I frequently find daunting. “Live in the present and embrace life instead of dwelling on the past or worrying about the future,” she advised. My reply echoed a persistent struggle, “I just don’t know how to. I look at one thing, I either see its past or its future; the present only flashes by and then it becomes the past.”

My worries about the future constantly feed into my lazy-ass ambition. “I need to do this… I need to do that… I need this degree in order to get that degree…”

Still not sure about the desires towards high achievements, but cynicism has always been a part of my nature. While kids my age reveled in play and laughter, my thoughts were occupied with concerns about my impending 40-year-old adulthood. My grasp of nature and reality instilled in me a sense of hopelessness, as the idealism seemed unattainable.

In response, I forged my own system, one diverging from the accepted norms of the mainstream world, resulting in a contradiction self – an anxious procrastinator, an indecisive determinative person, and a lazy overachiever.

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the last 3 paragraphs were so shit, but it’s time to post. thank you for stopping by!

lots of love,

lin

i woke up at 5AM this morning, done with my morning ritual – mostly caffeine (not great for my anxiety but lol) and journaling, and thought to myself: why not post this week’s post early so i can get it out of my way. so here it goes:

In the silent shadows where desires unfold,
I wanted to wear another's story, bold.

Each sunrise whispers tales of a distant 'they,'
A phantom image of perfection that leads astray.

Until one day, a twist in fate's grand chore,
My identity became the one they wished for.

Becoming one of them, dancing at every dawn and twilight,
Being wanted by them, basking in the skin from a borrowed light.

For when a soul wished to trade its core,
In that moment, I became one, wanting more.

not the first time writing a poem, but i’m still quite new to it. with limited vocabulary and literacy, i will try my best. i really can’t produce something long and meaningful every week (it’s lowkey getting shorter and shorter lol), but i’m still posting every week hehe. how am i doing recently? a lot better. i’m learning something new every week. reading has been going well (sort of) too. life is looking great :))

In this epoch, we find ourselves encircled by the presence of others—whether kin by blood or soulful strangers—yet an undeniable solitude echoes within. Our yearning for connection transcends the superficial, a quest for understanding that seeks the uncharted territories of unparalleled happiness.

This ceaseless longing propels us through the shallows of purpose-seeking, a relentless pursuit walking on the edge of fragility. Matters and relationships alike ascend to their zenith, only to bow out of existence with a quiet grace.

My mother, a sage in matters of the heart, whispered to me that oftentimes, the union of two souls is but a refuge-seeking duet, a dance of seeking solace in the mere presence of another. Is it not a poignant reflection of our inherent inability to unearth fulfillment within, compelling us to cast our gaze outward in the hope that others might cradle a fragment of our being?

In the quest to find my place amidst the vast expanse of existence, a question echoes through the corridors of my solitude: How do I quell this pervasive loneliness? Delving into the annals of history, I find myself navigating a river of time, flowing with the collective stories of countless souls like mine. Did they, too, traverse the labyrinth of emotions that courses through me?

As I immerse myself in the words etched by ancient pens and the art that breathes with the echoes of centuries, I discern a familiar resonance. Did they have the same existential yearnings that tug at the fabric of my being? It seems likely, for the threads of human experience appear woven with a shared tapestry of joys and sorrows.

I watch people passing through, passing by, with grey hair or with a stroller, are we all destined to partake in this cyclical nature of life, embracing the transient nature of both joy and pain? It is a question that lingers, as I navigate the currents of time and seek connection with the silent voices that have woven the narrative of humanity.

Here I stand, a lone wanderer in the cosmic expanse, in pursuit of solace on this celestial sphere.

I’m basically a vessel of fears.

Fear is a universal emotion that lurks in the background of our consciousness. It can take the form of an incurable illness, the specter of losing loved ones, or any type of anxieties. Today, I’m uncovering some of my own fears, not only as a means of navigating into my personal struggles but also in hope of offering solace to others who might have similar concerns, reminding them that they are not alone in their journey. I do of course want to run away, but at the end, I will have to confront them and fight my own battle.

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I (self-awareness)

In the dead of night, I awoke abruptly, startled by a nightmarish specter that served as a harsh reminder of my existence within a surreal dreamscape. Trapped within the clutches of this haunting vision, I strained to cry out for my mom, but my voice was imprisoned within the confines of my constricted throat, ensnared by fear and spectral apparitions.

Seeking to make my voice heard, I found myself silently shouting within the chambers of my soul while upholding a façade of composure externally. Within this charade, I unraveled the complexities of adulthood, navigating its bewildering labyrinth of challenges and uncertainties. I tread cautiously in the shadow of this enigma, still unfamiliar with the formidable beast before me.

At one point, I loved my capacity for introspection, but as it evolved into an acute self-awareness, I found myself caught in a paradox. This heightened self-awareness left me in a state of indecision, a perplexing duality that made it challenging to align with the expectations of the world around me.

I’m scared of the uncertainty that plagues my own self-perception, a disquieting fear of my thoughts and feelings toward my own identity.

It’s like a fight against myself.

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II (forgetfulness)

In the past, and now, I felt compelled to document an important event, acknowledging the frailty of my memory. However, people cautioned against placing unwavering trust in the words I penned long ago, suggesting that they might have been tinged with exaggeration. This dilemma raises a pertinent question: what should I place my faith in – the memory I have today in 2023, looking back on 2017 or 2010? My inclination veers away from that path. Rather than relying on potentially skewed recollections from my current vantage point, I find solace in the plain and unadorned words of the past, preserving the authenticity of that moment.

I have an intimate connection with my dreamscapes. Each time I venture into the realm of dreams, irrespective of their content, a profound sense of joy envelops me. The dream world serves as a sanctuary where I can reunite with individuals I’m unable to meet in waking life, a canvas where reminders are subtly etched into the tapestry of my mind.

Each morning, as I stir from slumber, I make an earnest attempt to recollect the dreams that had danced through my mind. However, more often than not, my frustration mounts as the delicate tendrils of those visions blur and fade away. It’s a fear I’ve long been acquainted with – my memory, fragile like that of a goldfish. The desire to capture every single detail of both my dreamscapes and reality is strong, but my fleeting attention span proves a formidable barrier to retaining those precious memories.

It’s a fear of being self-aware of the fleeting nature of memories.

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III (time)

It was a significant evening when I took a stroll along the bustling street near my home. In that moment, a torrent of memories inundated my consciousness, vivid recollections of days long past that seemed to surge forth from the depths of my contemplative mind. This amble prompted me to grapple with the profound and eternal enigma of time, engrossing myself in contemplation of its elusive essence.

During this introspective journey, an agonizing sensation clenched my chest, as if an invisible hand had seized my heart. The air itself turned hot and oppressive, each breath becoming a laborious endeavor. It became increasingly apparent that I could no longer press forward on my path, compelling me to retrace my steps homeward.

Time, in that moment, felt like a relentless treadmill beneath my feet. The past and the future entwined in a disorienting manner. The ceaseless march of time evoked a sense of anxiety, akin to the feeling of running in place. I witnessed the past flitting by my side, while the future loomed ahead like an ominous mist, an apparition I couldn’t avoid or escape, leaving me trapped on the same treadmill.

The fear of time enveloped me. I recognized that the perception of time itself was mutable, its passage influenced by my ever-shifting mindset. Days could stretch into feeling like months, while months could whiz by like mere seconds. Moments I had cherished and lived with care were reduced to mere fleeting clips. Countless moments slip into oblivion with every passing second as time marches on, and my unreliable memory only accelerates this relentless process.

I couldn’t help but ponder, where had all my time gone?

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IV (absurd reality)

After thinking too much to the point where my head hurts with the effort, I’ve reached a realization – reality is absolutely absurd. Being a cynic from a young age, I’ve often directed my inquiries inward, questioning the very nature of existence.

As the haunting question of “who am I” loomed in my mind, I realized it was already too late to turn back.

Hours turned into days as I dug deeper into searching answers, hoping to finally lay the question to rest. Yet, the more I probed, the more intricate the maze became. Countless branches of inquiries sprouted from that single “who am I,” leaving me trapped in an endless cycle of frustration and irritation. I circled around the question hundreds of times, always arriving at the same maddening conclusion: “I can’t solve it, no one can. Maybe I shouldn’t even be pondering this question. But if I shouldn’t, why does it exist?”

In a moment of exasperation, I shut my eyes tightly, muttering under my breath, “Forget it, forget it all. Let’s just play make-believe, shall we? Pretend those wretched questions never even crossed my mind. If they resurface, well, let them. I detest the relentless churn of my thoughts, but I must endeavor to embrace them. There’s no way I’m nursing grudges against myself once more. Yet, I have a sinking suspicion that the self-loathing will rear its ugly head again, for I remain ensnared in this relentless loop. It’s a temporary reprieve, nothing more.”

Any questions I posed to myself invariably spiraled into an endless loop, an unceasing cycle of introspection.

I will never understand the absurdity of the world, that’s for sure. How I will cope, that’s another story.

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These fears are nicely woven together, each one feeding into the next, strengthening their force. It’s a complex web where addressing one fear inevitably ripples through to impact the others.

I am aware that to uncover my deepest fears will be a solitary voyage, one in which I must continually reinforce the notion of self-reliance. While I’ve been on the relentless pursuit of unclear answers and waging a silent battle against the intangible inner demons, the presence of my beloved companions has been my wellspring of fulfillment and contentment.

But yes, I’m doing well.

Hey friends! First, I want to extend my gratitude to all of you who are here reading this. You see, I’ve been an extreme oversharer. Writing and sharing are my passions; they’re my vehicles for self-discovery and self-expression. I’ve heard people say that leaving too many traces of oneself behind on the Internet isn’t ideal, honestly, I couldn’t agree more. However, I vehemently rebel against that notion, and so here I am, ready to hop on yet another oversharing escapade.

“Today, I reunited with my childhood best friend, and I couldn’t help but be taken aback by her new tattoos and piercings,” I wrote on June 26, 2016. It seems like a distant memory now.

Fast forward two and a half years, December 2018, I found myself on the cusp of a decision I’d thought about for months. Walking into that tattoo parlor, I left all my preconceived notions at the door. It was like a child in a candy store, overwhelmed by the choices.

As the tattoo artist’s needle began to dance across my forearm, I couldn’t suppress a doubt that perhaps I should have taken more time on the design. Yet, the truth is, whether I’d spent a lifetime pondering, I would’ve probably ended up in that same chair, making an on-the-spot decision.

That day marked the inception of a journey where many more tattoos would find their home on different parts of my body. It was then that I began to reflect on my inked journey.

I found myself questioning: When did the notion of getting a tattoo embed itself in my mind? Was it an internal desire, or had external influences seeped in? Perhaps it was a fusion of both.

Despite my thoughts with “what if” questions – “What if I come to regret this decision in a decade?” or “What if my skin gets all wrinkly in three decades?” – more new art pieces moved onto my skin. The allure of these designs was undeniable, overriding the doubts I entertained.

My journey carried me away from the conventions of my culture, which hasn’t entirely embraced the concept of tattoos. My pursuit was a statement, though the precise message remained hazy even to me. It was my silent rebellion, an avenue to give voice to a facet of myself I’d often suppressed.

The desire to stand out and imprint a particular moment on my skin, whether semi-permanent or forever, went beyond mere aesthetics. It was the significance I infused into every inked piece that held genuine import.

Inevitably, as I began to stand out and encounter the challenges that accompanied my tattoos, I realized that I saw this coming. What I didn’t foresee, however, was my reaction to these situations. Do I regret the choices I made in those yesteryears? Well, there’s no hopping into a time machine to rewrite history. It still perplexes me why forms of self-expression that step beyond the boundaries of cultural norms are often met with disapproval.

What truly defines the self? What constitutes a fitting avenue for self-expression? Why do we want to be both unique and accepted, all at once?

They say that you eventually become the person you once feared becoming. Carl Jung’s words seem to hold weight. This journey, with its twists and turns, has led me to where I stand today, defying my own expectations. It’s as if my nature and the world conspired to bring me closer to someone I once shied away from.

Now, as I gaze into the mirror, I see the duality that resides within me – the light and the dark, the conformist and the rebel – all coexisting as integral parts of my being. Trying to extinguish that inner fire backfired; it felt unjust to embrace the rebel without acknowledging the less-than-perfect parts.

I’m still on the path to accepting the complexities that reside within me, while treading the fine line between self-expression and societal acceptance. It’s my unique dance, and I’m unafraid to let the rhythm lead the way.

lately, i’ve been on a writing craze. the idea of a weekly post is something i’ve wanted to do for ages, but let’s face it, i’m prob not gonna stick to it. i’m more of definitely a “phases” person, and right now, it’s one of those intense thought floods. So, i’m gonna ride the wave and churn out as much as i can until one day, i’ll inevitably abandon it in the dusty corner after a few weeks. i’ve even dabbled in fictional stories, but let’s be honest, my skills don’t quite match my ambitions. i will just freestyle for now, and once, if ever, i get some skills in my pocket, i will come back to this topic, and credits to gpt for correcting my grammar and giving me nice vocab. (I have a draft on AI discussion too lol, so that’s another topic for the future.)

As I revisited my old journal entries, “that’s a red flag… that too… holy shit, that’s a lot of red flags…” Jokes aside, a consistent pattern emerged: I was perpetually fixated on either reliving the past or projecting myself far into the future, teetering on the edges of extremes. The concept of “balance” had never been in my dictionary; my life resembled an on-off switch, a continuous oscillation between polar opposites. Paradoxically, I considered myself a neutral observer of life’s complexities. My opinions typically hovered in a state of indecision, rendering me an exceedingly indecisive individual, while my actions were driven by impulsivity.

In the absence of the past, I’d eagerly construct a future. Conversely, in moments bereft of foresight, I’d immerse myself in the past, stretching nostalgia until it yielded a fresh future. Though I occasionally found myself in the present, these episodes were rarely pleasant. The present was a realm where both the past and the future bore down on me, resulting in feelings of misery, confusion, hollowness, and cynicism. I derived solace from the past and drew motivation from the future, but the present remained an unknown I feared.

The notion of simply “being” in the present frightened me. I craved a sense of purpose, regardless of its form or timing. As far back as I can remember, the specter of a “normal” life always haunted me. The idea of succumbing to a mundane, repetitive existence, fixated solely on the present, sent shivers down my spine. I struggled to reconcile the apparent simplicity and complexity of life, acutely aware that its nature was deeply subjective and relative. This awareness left me in a state of perpetual confusion. My life was characterized by a preoccupation with the people and events of the past, immersing myself in a world of my own creation. Yet, each time I dared to step outside this self-fashioned cocoon, a brave new world of the future unfurled before me. This transformation was not without its casualties, as it entailed the annihilation of the world I had left behind, leaving only the scattered fragments of my former indifference.

I often had the feeling that I hadn’t matured much. Whenever a challenge presented itself, my inner immaturity would rear its head, seemingly impervious to the knowledge I’d accumulated over the years. It was as if this wisdom merely danced on the surface, unable to penetrate the core of my being. I began to understand why people talked about navigating into their inner child. The inner child, I thought, was at the heart of it all, buried beneath layers of experiences and baggage that had accumulated over time. It occurred to me that if I kept piling on these layers, could I, in turn, bury that core even deeper?

What is the elusive present, really? I’ve tried in meditation, hoping to grasp that sought-after state of complete or semi-complete emptiness, but it has always remained just out of reach for me. In my view, a sustained presence in the moment seems unattainable. I can manage a few fleeting moments of it, but soon enough, my mind takes off in one direction or another. Some might call it anxiety, others might label it as worries, but perhaps it’s just the restless nature of thought itself.

We all have to deal with our own inner conflicts, and mine has been a constant companion in my life. I’ve documented various sets of contradictions that extend beyond the realms of past, future, and present. Often, it seems there’s no definitive solution in sight. Take the classic identity crisis, for instance. It strikes when I find myself straddling multiple sides, yet not wholly belonging to any. It’s as though I stand at a crossroads, faced with the daunting task of choosing a path, but an internal resistance persists, pulling me in different directions. Consequently, I’ve navigated the web of my own conflicting thoughts, living in a state of perpetual confusion for an extended period.

As I reflect on my current state of existence, I’ve arrived at a somewhat unsettling conclusion: it often feels like a binary choice between thinking and living, with little room for an in-between. For the time being, I seem to have gravitated towards the realm of thought. This manifests in my ceaseless writing, an attempt to decipher a question that remains frustratingly elusive, let alone its elusive answer.

A friend once asked me, “Can’t you simply find a middle ground or choose just living?” I told her that I had indeed made attempts, but I still couldn’t find the balance. Opting for just living seemed as implausible as expecting a fish to thrive without water – my thoughts, regardless of their quality, were my life’s sustenance.

What have I been up to? Well, it’s been countless hours seated in front of my laptop and notebook, digging deep into the my thought mazes (fun or not fun it really depends). I decided to steer myself towards the path of contemplation, a decision fraught with risks, but the journey has been okay far.

long time no see y’all, it’s been a LONG LONG time since last time i posted a rant. i’ve been writing a lot tho, just not here cuz i kinda just forgot this place oops. yeah, i def should be more organized instead of using ten notebooks plus five different apps grab a drink (alcoholic or not), have fun reading my bs after two years :> it takes 3-4 min btw according to the average reading speed.

TLDR: second guessing, dropped out, going back

Running a blog that was supposed to last a whole decade had become a real headache. It felt like a constant reminder of the promises I’d made when I was a 19-year-old. I often felt guilty for not wanting to carry the load that my younger self had eagerly taken on. Whenever the reminder popped up, I patted it off like some dust on my sleeves, “Nope, I’m not going back go to that thing.”

It was super weird to find myself back in this wasteland. I mean, I’ve lost that cheeky confidence I had in the past two years. It’s like my MBTI personality did a flip and turned me from an extrovert into an introvert. My heart was racing so fast it made me feel sick. I took a deep breath, kept typing, and told myself, “Hey, chill out, dude. You gotta fulfill that silly promise you made, so the 19-year-old you won’t throw a fit. Who knows, it could be a wild disaster or a crazy good time, and the 29-year-old you might either thank you or give you a good roasting.”

19 til 29, six and half years to go…

You might be wondering why I ever got into this long-term commitment. I might have used to be an attention wh*re. Well, besides that, the truth was, it was and still is my version of a quarter-life crisis, even if I tried to make it sound like a joke. On top of that, COVID boredom? I only found myself writing posts either when I was procrastinating, aka running away from my problems, or when I was having a crisis. Deep down, I wasn’t sure if I could really stick with it, but time would tell (probably not tbh, but hey, I came back after sooo long, I have to try, at least). Maybe it was just a side hobby to keep my days less boring or an excuse to run away from my problems (all my hobbies are tbh).

I’ve always loved writing, but looking back at my old writings and, honestly, cringe-worthy blog posts was something I avoided like the plague. It was just too embarrassing. Sometimes, I wished I could hit the delete button and make it all disappear. This time around, the desire to start fresh and wipe the slate clean was strong. But I had to remind myself, “It is what it is – welcome to the generation that’s stuck dealing with the mess our younger selves made, online and offline. And, cringe I know, learn to love yourself, every version of yourself.” That being said, I’ve been working on several drafts for some time now, but still haven’t looked at a single old post lol, irony is flowing through my life, every-fucking-where.

Two years seemed to fly by while I struggled through each day, feeling like I was stuck in a never-ending loop. I’d lie in bed, sigh deeply, and mutter, “Man, I’ve lost myself again.” I’d stare into the darkness around me, but I didn’t dare look for too long, scared that something might jump out at me. Seven years had passed, and it felt like I’d taken a long detour only to end up right back where I started.

As for my pursuit of medical school, it’s been a winding road. I couldn’t even remember when it all began. An old friend’s comment about my earlier plans to go to the States for neuroscience research shook me up. My academic journey has been all over the place – from computer science to psychology, neuroscience to physiology, and even a stint in cancer research and clinical medicine. I’ve lost sight of what I really want.

Getting into medical school was a big deal for both me and my family. But when I held that acceptance letter, a wave of fear washed over me: “Okay, here’s the entrance ticket. Now what? What does it mean? Do I really want this?” All the questions and uncertainties overwhelmed the 22 year-old mind. Just two weeks into school, I decided to take a leave of absence.

I’ve never been a good student, as in I never had the spark for anything I was learning. Except when it came to medical school-related subjects, I had to pass and stay above average. Now, I’m questioning my true interests and motivations. It’s like I’ve lost myself along the way. Did I choose medicine because it was a safe option when I was 18? My grades in biomedical courses were far from stellar, and I struggled to keep up. I wasn’t very bright, but I was bright enough – and just bright enough – to finish the degree decently. Did I even have what it takes for medicine, or for anything else?

When a friend confided in me about her crisis, I wholeheartedly offered my support, sharing my own life experiences and reassuring her that clarity would soon grace her path. Little did I foresee that I would plunge headlong into my very own labyrinth of introspection, despite being lauded as a “clear-minded and goal-oriented young individual.” Life’s irony, it seemed, never ceased to amuse me as I repeatedly circled back to familiar quandaries, as if I had never ventured away from my original starting point.

These doubts have led me to question so much, so much that I went to my mom, telling her with full confidence: “I think I want to be a writer.” The idea sounded as wild as my childhood bold statements – at 8, I told my dad that no more school for me, I had learned enough and I wanted to explore the world for the rest of my life; and then, at 14, I was convinced I’d be a famous singer. Maybe I went through these crazy phases every 7 to 8 years. Who knew for sure? Rest assured though, 95% of chance that I wouldn’t be taking the path of becoming a writer. Instead, I could become a professional crisis dumper over my decade-lasting project *frowned hard*.

After mulling over countless scenarios for a relatively “perfect” life after the decision of not attending the medical school (for idk how long), I just sort of shrugged and said to myself, “You know what, whoever’s mapping out my journey, thank you for the rough experiences *laughed ironically*. I’m heading back to that winter wonderland and finishing what I started. No more rushing things for this laid-back soul, I swear to god.”

As for this post, I feel like I’m chasing my own tail, trying to capture the thoughts I want to share. It’s like running in endless circles, both physically and in my mind. Is this post turning into a rant? A little bit, I guess. Am I scared of how other people perceive me? A little bit. But the problems I laid out here isn’t just personal but quite universal. It’s more about how I’ll see myself through their eyes. I’m scared of my own mind interpretations of their perceptions. At times, it kinda felt like I was baring my soul when I put my thoughts out there for the world to see. But then I told myself, even if it’s like getting naked in front of everyone, people’s memories are like a sieve, right? They won’t remember as they scroll through a million other things, except for a few who might actually dig the raw honesty, and well, that’s a win for writing, I guess. If I had the courage to dive into this at 19, I should be brave enough to resurface. If regrets (both this and everything else) are waiting for me down the road, then so be it.

Thank you for your time and patience if you have made it this far. The 20s really is something, eh? Stay warm and enjoy the color changing and sweetness of the autumn (if you are located in the Southern hemisphere, enjoy the upcoming summer), till the next time.

love,

lin ❤

p.s. i honestly NEED to go over my old posts to make sure that i’m not repeating the same things over and over. but whatever lol, if i really were repeating, i wouldn’t know. just casually deceiving myself, like how i always do. well done! new me, new circle lol. yes, i need to work on the site, i’ll get there, hopefully, one day. yes, i need to change the layout, i forgot pretty much all the features already. and yes yes, i think, i’ve promised it once, oops, life took a toll on me, and umm… two years just flew by hehe

pt. 2 (why am i writing part 2 in english? why am i doing it with keyboard again? where is the consistency? i don’t know, i just feel like to.)

“another procrastination session, how nice.” nope, the imperative thing to figure out on the top of the others at the moment should be finding the original motivation.

recently, i’ve been feeling “unwell.” it’s more of a term describing my current state than a psychological or physiological condition. there is a void inside me that holds me from doing things, things that are more real, things that are seemingly more important than the rest at present. it’s an indescribable feeling. my short-term memory became messed up; my field of vision narrowed down; my attention was in another dimension when talking to people. i don’t know where i am when i’m outside by myself, like figuratively. Did some self-diagnosis, and don’t think it’s anything medical related. (might be hormonal, who knows)

i still consider myself as an immature being, especially when i’m still questioning about my identities. i can’t remember the time when i had a gap that led to the confusion i’m having right now. it might be a month ago, or four years ago. the way out of this state i’m in is completely on myself. it doesn’t necessarily mean that the help from the others was useless, but i should be the one who’s responsible for my doings. and no, taking a long walk or spending time with myself is not a solution, for me at least. still, like always, i need to write things down to straighten my entangled thoughts. they are definitely messy in the beginning, but once put them in the right order my mind would be clearer.

continue with the the last question “where do i see myself in the next 10 years” from pt. 1, which was a bit too ambitious. i certainly cannot answer it with 100% confidence. no matter how long i sit down and think, there is no way to plan out everything with every possible outcomes calculated. therefore, i shortened the timeframe to five years. where do i see myself in the next 5 years?

i’m graduating in a year and during the next few months, i’ll be making decisions for the next few years. it’s similar to the time back when i was deciding my undergraduate major in terms of the feeling of disorientation i’m experiencing now, but distinctive in some other ways. throwing back how i made the decision to become who i am now was such a chain of coincidences — it was just right on the time, and my mood was right on the point. i didn’t take much time to consider every aspect of the path i was going to walk on, not until today. i spent a couple of minutes when i was filling my application, without even knowing the differences between the faculty of science and the faculty of arts sci.

“mcgill is fair, it’s close to toronto; french-speaking province, hm, fun,”

“hm definitely not arts, too much english,”

“probably not comp sci either,”

“lemme check what mcgill is good at…”

“life sci seems reasonable,”

“alright, biomed or whatever, done.”

yes, that’s how i originally ended up in life science, very random. however, i still believe that it was my subconsciousness that shaped the option i chose and it was this very option that has shaped me to believe that it was a quite nice choice.

at the moment, i have browsed all those different potential tracks i might take on and the more i browse, the more confused i get. so, i stopped rushing or making decisions before i have really figured out the “ultimate” goal i want to achieve. it might sound bizarre and unrealistic to set one, but in the end, it’ll be that goal, or the intrinsic motivation, to keep myself moving. sometimes, looking at the employment trends would minify my scope, “but it’s your job and income that matter the most at the end of a day.” i have to admit that under this materialistic environment, i can’t live idealistically. maybe i can, one day, maybe my ideological level can reach a certain height when everything else is satisfied. one thing i know for sure is that the decision entering life science was a right one and sticking to it is what i want to do for the rest of my life, which one particularly, is the major question to be answered.

occasionally, asking fewer questions is better than asking too many. i’ll stop here without digging too deep into my choices. i took my time to think over, and at the time of making decision, i’d be more of the spontaneous type.

i didn’t bother considering computer science or tech in general after giving it at least three chances to come to this conclusion; i chose physiology while ten years ago i already started to pay attention to the anatomical diagrams in the textbook that science teachers skipped; the most random tattoo i chose back in time was after thinking twice for more than a year… everything that i thought is “coincidental” and spontaneous was all long-planned without me knowing. “hell yeah or no” is one of my mottos nowadays. if it’s something that i don’t want to do RIGHT at this moment, i will not do it. now i ask myself again, am i really an indecisive person who can’t make up her mind to do anything? i’d answer no today. it’s the long phase for me before arriving at the final destination. i can imagine, at the point where i need to choose, i’d do it without hesitation. it’s possible that i could have done better if i chose other wise let’s say i might have some talents in acting who knows. but if it’s the decision i made, stick to it and make the best out of it.

live life and let things happen, when it comes to the time to decide, choose the one that makes the most sense. after some time, you’d realize that that very option was the one represented yourself the most.

i’m at 1337th (after endless editing, idk where i’m at now) word right now, more than what a personal statement requires. anyways, i think my mind is 80% clear now. the rest 20%, i’ll try and do something else.

do i have targeted audiences? no, i do not. i don’t care who’s viewing my posts who’s not. i’m writing all those things for myself, for people who are “bored” to read some nonsense i wrote on a random day. but then, where did i get the audacity to share them with the public? i do not know, either. i just feel the urge and i let it happen. the degree of transparency i have as a person is so high that i don’t mind revealing myself. people judge, and i know they would try to make assumptions about another person more or less based on the limited information they perceived. how much i care about how other people think of me depends on the degree the person would affect me personally. for example, i’d be very careful in front of my profs but i wouldn’t have the same degree of carefulness in front of someone that i know i’d never see again.

the one and only goal for now is not to waste any more time. when i’m not at my best to do work, do other things: listen to broadcast when i don’t want to read; draw one or two nice pictures when i don’t want to write; do anything so that “free thoughts” wouldn’t haunt me.

everything depends on my own cognition, EVERYTHING. so, lin, you are living for yourself, you are doing things for you. it’s not another “cheesy preachment for life change,” just a little reminder so you could do better without being disoriented. whenever you are not feeling well, don’t actually take your time because you only have finite amount. do something that put your time into good use (reading, writing, exercising, etc.)

i’m getting my wisdom teeth removed next week, hopefully lin wouldn’t get any dumber than now. and wish y’all a nice thursday, or friday, day, depending on when i’m going to post this. also hbd to my mom and dad <33

cheers,

lin