White Noise

What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?
I am dissatisfied with my life. Who isn't?


What do you call it when you get sick of counting your blessings and you totally get the point already and still somehow you know--YOU KNOW--there's something missing and it makes all of those things you so meticulously counted seem completely and utterly insignificant and you can't really decide whether you're blessed or cursed or conceited or simply going insane at what's supposed to be the penultimate peak of what you now feel to be a pathetic life?


Crisis would be a good name to call IT.
Frustration?
Castration? Is this how it's like, boys?
AAAARGH!


A friend of mine has encouraged me to attend this talk at the end of the month about "Educating the Emotions". It's supposed to be a series leading up to what is now known as the quarter-life crisis. Thus, she has unknowingly given me what could be the antidote to all of these ageing angst which I've dragged with me all the way from pre-puberty (yes, I do believe I was that angst-y). Haha. I could be all daisies in my next post.