그_냥 (J_ust) – 새벽 두시 (Two in the Morning)

Another song recommendation by Nosey. I’m sorry I haven’t been translating much lately… Vlogging actually takes up so much time .
It’s 11:54 pm on a Monday night, not quite Tuesday, but close enough. I’ll end up posting this tomorrow anyways.

I’m on the bus ride back from home to… well, home. I have taken this same bus numerous times for numerous different reasons… for a friend, for school, for interviews, for my girlfriend, and now, for home. With every trip up, it feels like my love for this city grows stronger, but it wasn’t until today’s ride that I had not a single worry to bother me for the entirety of the four hour ride. Sure, some regrets and wishes, but not a worry.

I’ve talked a lot about my relationship with others and how they changed but I never talked about myself, the standards I put myself up against. For the past several years, starting from the end of high school, I’ve felt like a failure. The college rejection letters hit me hard, and I got jealous over watching people, people who I naïvely thought deserved it less than I did, get into their dream schools. I hated my luck, and also myself. Why do I never get what I want? For every Harvard and MIT t-shirts I saw on the bus, I felt more and more inferior, and I was jealous.

But I still graduated, and I had a great time. I met people who changed my views on friendship and people who taught me love. But none of the struggle up until that point came even close to what I would have to go through in the coming year. It was the same cycle all over again, just like how I felt for every rejection letter from schools or internships; I couldn’t get the jobs I wanted, and I got jealous of everyone else who did. Every day I spent home, I felt like a failure because I was one. I was afraid of how pathetic I must look to those around me. I felt like I was falling behind in life, not just compared to others, but compared to what I had planned, what I wanted to do during my short time here. The restlessness I felt doing nothing at home, and the fear that this is in fact it, that this is life, scared me. The nonchalance of her words “you’re still young” sounded like words of pity. Even after I got a job, a job that I hated, I rarely talked about it to those closest to me because I was ashamed. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to give people more reasons to love me less, when I already couldn’t understand why they would in the first place. I was worried I would lose the only things I had left that motivated me to go on.

And here I am, going back home, Boston, without a single worry in mind. It’s sad that “happy Michael” even became a thing, that I’d have rare moments when I’d be more like myself from before, careless, thoughtless, and worriless. It feels like I traded one great thing for another, and the timing of some events could’ve been better, but I now realize that just because my life could be better doesn’t mean my life right now isn’t good. I feel more like myself; I think less, I stress less, I worry less. Well, actually, I do have one worry right now: I hope I can get home dry in this drizzle. I’m walking.