I’m not sure it would be fair to say really good things don’t happen to me. That would perhaps seem to deny the great blessings—as cliché as they are—I’ve received; the greatest of all: family. That’s not what I’m talking about, though.
From something as trivial as never winning anything in a local raffle to a major accomplishment like getting into a prestigious school, that’s just not what happens to me.
I do my work—as much as stress allows—and don’t overly complain about it. I understand privilege and (or) luck and the amount of each that I possess. Fair or not, sometimes I care, other times I don’t see the point in even caring.
In a few days, all this may change. So I’m anxious and scared. There’s a possibility, but if luck has anything to do with this, then I can’t help but feel pessimistic. It just doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing that happens to me.
I guess we’ll see.
It’s been quite a while since I last wrote here. I’m not one who journals, or at least I thought so—perhaps this blog has been a journal. Writing is therapeutic and part of my stress may be due to my lack of journaling time. I should come back to it—as long as it doesn’t become another source of stress itself.
Last thing: I hate being vague and general about the events that cause the feelings I usually write about. For the moment, however, I rather keep it this way, hoping that changes in the coming days.
