Ever since God granted me this cognition, to grasp almost everything from my surroundings to implicit self, it has become my habit to always (optimistically) picture the unsure.
I keep on expecting.
My sight shuts but it sees: scenes of simple happiness from childhood. Satisfied I was before because I seldom meet disappointment. Either my own or not—that never matter as long as we speak about victory. I winning the race. Ready set on start from first grade to sixth thus become the overachiever. When I study in focus I come on top. When I contest I succeed. Speaking out of conceit, academic and non-scholastic awards delight me. However, these weigh a little less as compared to a child’s play. Being the most valuable sipa-bola player of the day, adding a new stationery paper set to my collection, a grant of extra baon from parent; and a possible glimpse of your elementary crush through eye corner sound more appealing. Then.
To this day sometimes I wish I am little again, nonchalant, more appreciative, and most of all less afraid to expect. Why not fearful?
Now my eyes open and see a clearer view. One thing I learn is that evident object deserves utmost concern consequently what is now clearer to our view catches more attention to the eyes. Our prospect is the present.
I neither say maturity brings none of the youthful joys nor despise being involved in the complexity of adulthood since I love simply being in it. Beginning from high school good things constantly unravel i.e. only rules and laws are the limits. Taking public transport turns usual so my parents decide to cancel my daily carpool (as if ), I can at the moment entertain suitors (however am not allowed to involve in any relationship yet), attend late night events, decide my own fate, and the rest more mature advantages—in another term become amazingly independent.
Naturally, there are thousand reasons to be keen on being an adult even so a mere thing hinders that pure enjoyment. We grow, yes we grow, but our demands in life increase as well, and only a hypocrite person denies this. In cases demand can be multifaceted and when this happens I dislike it because it triggers most of my expectations.
Owing to the fact of the culprit dismay has been an existing word. Now that I am a no child world’s intricacy has already been a responsibility I carry upon my shoulder, nevertheless, whenever I immerse myself in the lifestyle society dictates us all the more efforts I shall give so as a result success may go at hand and within these endeavor my hopes are established.
Expecting has become a tendency unavoidable to me. Despite low chance situations I do it. Despite I know some things cannot be I keep my firm belief. Perhaps, I have been used to it, should I blame the past for tolerating this attitude or is it only myself as a woman whom requires change?
Indeed I want a change. Indeed I do not. Expectations may most of the time connotatively give a negative note because in the end it is normally accompanied by cons, first in the list is disappointment, but the pros is also a friend which most of the time serves as the challenge—will you give too much of it? Because when you do here problems arise. To expect with regards to its measure is all right. High conveys only great power of spirit and low means a regulated determination of one’s self. Otherwise, it can be emotionally destructive.
Either way I choose to keep mine. Expectations give me the fervor because these are dreams in disguise.
