Twentysomething.

The figures are tempting me to pull my hair out of my head.

I don't know if I can keep up with all these. Someone remind me once again why I'm doing all of these?

It's not about having the right to not be strong. It's about having to. It's mandatory. There is no other choice.

When this happens, it becomes the norm. Or rather, I'd like to think of it this way.

All the other 21 year olds are out there struggling to make ends meet, while enjoying their youth, while wasting their time, while having fun, peace and laughter, doing what should be done at 21. Yes, they're doing that. They're not at Sentosa tanning their butts. They're not at some cafe enjoying their coffee. They're not shopping at Orchard spending their parents' money. They're not sleeping at home. They're not sitting at some corner gossiping about passers-by, laughing like money will drop from the sky, right smack into their laps, they're NOT.

Instead, they're sitting behind some desk in front of a computer, trying to meet some deadline, trying to look professional while secretly cursing the boss under their breath while smiling at the "oh so sweet and helpful, yet I see your horns on your head and your tail swinging at the back of you" colleague who just walked past your desk, gently reminding you of whatever piece of work you still owe her.

"No worries, its not that urgent."

She says.

The next thing you know, you're sitting right in front of your boss, answering for that very piece of work that is still in your tray marked "PENDING". What a great sense of deja vu. Did that just happen last week? Perhaps I was wrong. It must be me. I am confused now.


Don't get me wrong. I am happy and satisfied with my life and what I have. Which translates into, I AM NOT GRUMBLING.

I am, well, just lamenting.

Pardon me. But, it is not the time of the month.