Drowning in Doubts

When I learned to swim, I forgot how to drown. No, honestly, I remember how during swim class, my friends and I would deliberately try making our bodies heavy so that we could act like we were drowning (and get an early off from training), but the auto swim mode remained on. Five years later, I realized water was not the only place we could drown. Recently, I have started drowning in doubts; they feel too deep to jump out of.

 

I have completed my first year in college. Successfully or barely? Well, that is my first doubt. What defines ‘successfully’? Passing each subject or toping in each subject? Cause I seemed to have just satisfied the former.

I have always considered myself a ‘Yes’ student, meaning I agree with everything the teacher teaches without asking any doubts. But as my fresher year ends, I am surrounded by deep doubts.

 

Not the philosophical ones, like who the creator behind the universe is or what happens after death. But practical or pathetic doubts like am I social enough?

 

I do not know about you, but I sometimes feel that if I talk too much, people will think I am a crazy blabbermouth. And if I remain this silent, then they will think I am a crazy psychopath.

 

I cannot act as a mixture of both; instead, I work on the extremes. Every morning, my body decides which suit to wear, whether an extrovert or an introvert.

 

And then I doubt you would still be reading about my doubts.

 

This leads me to my identity crisis. I opted for engineering after thinking for a long time, and not that I am upset by my decision. I am just confused about how my writing fits into all of this, like where I will use my words in coding or which theorems will imply my fancy quotes.

Maybe it is writing that makes me lose marks as I sometimes flounder by using words from the dictionary. A string of compressive English flows out of my mouth when I get panicked or nervous. And who wants to listen to a long monologue instead of a simple conversation?

 

This brings me to my next concern: trust. It is a dangerous thing. I have read too many detective stories and watched so many thrillers, and I now silently judge my shadow. It is not difficult to make friends; trusting them is difficult. And I hate myself for it. They make it so easy in fantasy novels. A perfect trio or a bunch of five or seven friends getting along effortlessly. Sherlock even has a best friend, Watson, who is his accomplice.

I, on the other hand, talk to my friends while enclosing myself in an ice cube, not letting their warmth seep in. Is it right to doubt their intentions? Yes, they understand my problems and can relate to them, but can they resolve them, or will they gossip about them? Are they my true friends? What if I am the problem? Maybe I am a toxic friend? Perhaps I overthink every situation, but even a ‘Hi’ or text can seem frightening to me sometimes.

 

Ultimately, I spill the beans to my mother and father in our super-secret conferences every night. Does trusting my parents so much turn me childish and naive? Am I wrong to be so dependent on them even after I have completed my first year of college?

 

I wrote how I was homebound every weekend, but spending two months of summer break at home seems like a long time, and I long to return to college. Am I growing up? That thought scares me a lot, as it leads to more doubts.

 

I am not ready to behave like an adult. Getting out of the teenage phase is challenging, as in my last few months as a teenager, the teen drama has not decreased. I am either confused or angry; nowadays, as soon as I turn confused or doubtful, my anger starts bubbling up.

 

It steams up and flows out like an active volcano, leaving behind rocks of depression and ash of guilt at this fruitless act.

And, no, meditation does not work because I do not want it to work. When I am angry, I feel so happy getting rid of all the feelings I have felt. It is a self-made therapy, and even though it is scary for others to watch, it is pretty relaxing for me.

But the thing is that now I need to calm down as I step on a new level of growing up, and it sure does leave me in fear. Then, I doubt whether there is much scope for me as a grown-up. I am a mess emotionally, but what about professionally?

 

I keep hearing how AI is snatching all the jobs. You can code on AI and even write with it. Even before I enter the market, my two core skills have no worth left.

 

I doubt how I will survive in this passionate world. I suspect my CG, which remained shy of 9 in the first year, will be high enough to impress.

 

As for the skills, I feel like a jack of all trades, a master of none. Will that be fine?

 

I doubt the time I invest in studying is being utilized, I then doubt my answers in the examination hall, and finally, I doubt whether my report card is good enough.

 

I doubt I will gain super brains by accident anytime soon.

 

Eventually, I drown so much in doubts that tears and depression lay heavy on me. The future seems so dark. I doubt I will ever be something or not. Will my words be read or not?

 

But then, no one knows this, right? Nor Shakespeare, nor Einstein, nor Usain Bolt, nor anyone, not even the commoner, does not get a guided set of instructions on how to build your life.

We write our destinies. That is what made me begin writing.

So, I write, leaving behind my words on the cloud of the internet for years to come. I do not know who will discover them, but I have one message: drowning in doubts is not bad; dwelling in them is critical cause the longer you remain, the lesser time you have to find the answers.