I sleep while Kai toils

According to some generic reading I have done in the past years, I have 7 years left to live. The average schizophrenic will perish to suicide by mid-30s.

I panicked.

Visualizing my dad living alone made me worry the most.

Instead of doing my duty today as line judge at today’s tournament, I furrowed with malaise.

Did I do enough? I began to wonder.

If I have no career sight, no rent to pay, no education to fund. What am I saving money for? Should I invest in myself like a successful business is often typecast to do? Instead of setting money aside to invest in money markets, why not use the same income to better myself through educational training?

You’ll often find that people with less than ample time are able to accelerate their success. A diagnosis adds urgency because its prediction limits what is possible within a certain timeframe. As I have voiced my dream previously, I want to be an athlete. I will dedicate more time to training in the week soon, whether that be dance or badminton.

Life’s nectar is also beginning to rot.

Ambitions and early memories are the Froot Loops of my childhood. Ten years pass and despite no change in recipe, nothing comes close to how the memory of its crisp, colorful profile sits in my mind.

To achieve the same level of flavor as a bumbling adult, I have to seek higher highs and lower lows. While there are many exceptions, children have a greater neuroplasticity and are more easily impressed upon. As an adult now, it’s a matter of uprooting and unlearning whatever I absorbed as a child.

As I’ve matured into work life, I have cycles of yearning and disappointment but also goofy hilarity. I was silently crying to myself this afternoon, only to begin laughing because a friend was very, very drunk.

I was suddenly reminded of Kalanithi’s “When Breath Becomes Air.” The quickening of breath… the body carries its own wisdom of conscience. When to attack, when to accept defeat.

After today’s brief period of reflection, I emerge stronger for it.