We are having a sleepover at Hannah’s and I think everyone has drunk too much booze to actually be awake until 2 am. I think everyone is too tired from laughing and chatting and dancing and singing. I, too, am tired but somehow I couldn’t sleep.
It’s so quiet now, the only sound I can hear is the rattling sound of the ceiling fan in Hannah’s room. My mind wonders to our catch-up session earlier. It seems like everybody got some amazing tale to tell but me. Megan is getting married. Hannah got a job she always wanted. Anna is planning to open her own bakery next year. And me? Nothing.
What I am doing in life never really bothers me. But when its time to story-tell my life to a crowd of best friends you haven’t seen for so long—not to mention they have great progress in their lives, I feel so small, like my progress is super slow. It shouldn’t bother me, should it?
I think earlier when I had enough alcohol in my system, I blurted out my thoughts to everyone in the room. They asked me whether I am happy. I said yes, yes I am happy.
“Then what makes you feel sad like this?” Anna said.
“Because everyone’s making good progress and I feel like I am left behind”, I answered. “I feel stuck”.
“Maybe because you had made a big progress two years ago when all of us felt stuck. Maybe you need to look back and remember how I struggle with my first job or my second or my third. You always make it about yourself”Hannah snapped. Well between us four, Hannah is the most likely to start a fight. She doesn’t filter her mouth and she just doesn’t give a damn about anything else when she’s mad. One time, after a boy stood me up on a date during our sophomore year, Hannah literally hunted him down and once she found him at the school’s cafetaria, she gave him a lecture with a very interesting words’ choices (re: cursing and swearing). You don’t mess with Hannah. And even after many many years of knowing her, her words still get to me.
What she said earlier was right, though. I have the habit of making it all about me. Hannah is not the first person to point it out.
But still I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being left behind and making no progress. The ceiling fan becomes more interesting to be stared at. Maybe my life now would be like that: moving in the same old motion and rotation. Moving but not going forward.
“Ouch! Why did you kick me?!” I whispered to Hannah who just kicked my left leg, breaking me from my own thoughts.
“Stop overthinking and go to sleep! Also, turn off the fan please its cold”
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