Ambition farewell (Written 24/04/2007)

It's over. My studying years are over. Finished. I passed all tests, completed my dissertation, dealt with the endless administrative mess and can now call myself a fully fledged post graduate.

And it was nice. That first feeling of Freedom. But soon a second feeling came along. It quietly sneaked up on me one night while I was sleeping. I recognized it at once. It went in under the covers and started creeping over my feet. G. didn't notice anything. Heading for my brain, that lingering, slightly headachey sensation, like a vague reminder of something you should have dealt with but forgotten to, came closer and closer until it finally reached its destination. Its name was "What should you do with your life?"

It settled in nicely and worked hard to earn up to its name. It kept asking me questions at night, waking me up, shaking me, bothering me. At day time, it pretended not to exist when I spoke about it to friends and family. But it was always there, just when I thought I had control, whispering its name in my ear.

But it was not the only feeling present in my head. It shared the confined space with others. Some of them called Ambitions. They were good feelings. They always told me how talented I was or how I would succeed in something I loved doing. But when I doubted them, they became quiet and wouldn't talk to me any more. But one of them wasn't like its sisters. It was especially nice and nearly always managed to fight off the doubts. It took time to stroke my hair when I felt like tearing it off. It dabbed my face when it was cold with sweat. It prevented my hands from squeezing those inexisting pores when Anxiety took up too much space. That Ambition wanted me to write.

Motivated by those who care, although in different ways, I actually thought this particular Ambition was going to stay. But then one day, not long ago, Real Life came and knocked on my forehead. At first I refused to let it in. But it grew bigger and bigger, feeding on money shortage, potential house- and car investments, talk about babies and feelings of uselessness during the days. I just had to. As soon as I let it in, the Ambition called Writing turned its back on me. Sulking. "I thought you wanted to do something you loved?" it exclaimed, its eyes staring accusingly between Real Life and myself. "I know," I replied. "It's just that Real Life says that I will never be able to have most of the things I want for me and for G if I follow you." "Things like what?" it bursted. "Like financial stability, equality in my relationship, independence," I said pleadingly. "You have got to understand that". It just shrugged and turned to the wall. In the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Real Life's triumphant smile.

The new cohabitant made me do things I would never have done before. I was effective, proactive, reactive, you name it. When I complained over the dullness of my future job, it used hard argumentation to convince me that it was for the best. When I tried to talk to Ambition Writing, I realised it had shrunk to the size of a pea and that it nearly had nothing to say at all. Some days it would whisper something unrecognizable and I hurried to hear it. But it was too weak to repeat anything.

Then one day, I saw it, walking away from my head, with a suitcase as small as a crumb. I called to it and it stopped. It slowly turned around and looked me straight in the eyes - its expression somewhere between serenity and sadness. I didn't say anything. Neither did Ambition. Then it turned around again, continuing its separation from me. The last I saw of it was its right hand raised above its shoulder with two fingers in the shape of a peace sign.