At the end of the day, I think all the good intentions just end up making me feel worse about myself. Every time a girlfriend starts thinking about setting me up with someone and does so with the best intentions, I get that feeling of dread. Occasionally, I get that slim glimmer of hope that maybe this time it will work out, but most of the time, I just feel sad inside. I honestly feel that even the best yentas will fail when it comes to me. Set-ups for me generally end in failure. The guy normally has no interest in me and worse, either likes someone else that was there as well or likes my girlfriend who wants to set me up.

With experiences that all fall along this similar trend, it's little wonder that I have stopped believing anyone could be interested.

I wish I had more self-confidence. I wish that the so-called confidence that I purportedly exude was more than a false front. I never understood how people could view me as such when the reality is that I’m a bundle of insecurities. Sometimes, I’m wound so tight from the anxiety of putting forward the wrong foot that the symptoms physically manifest within me in a toxic cocktail of stomach cramps, nausea and a pounding headache. This semester, I added to my stress load by turning into a competitive Asian. I used to be more laid-back in my undergraduate but now, it’s just a race to show that I am better. I do not know where this intense urge to push myself came from but whatever it is, it is driving me to miss meals and sleep; with the fatigue comes the increasing self-disgust. I look like a walking corpse and feel like one too.

I think I’ve reached the stage where it’s not enough to compete academically. I feel the need to change more, do more and push myself more. I want to test my limits and surpass them. For once, I’ve started caring enough about my physical appearance that I’m taking an active role to do something about it. I’ve stopped caring how I reach my goal as long as I reach my goal. And you know, the pangs, the fast-beating of my heart, the insomnia all pales in comparison to the end goal. That is my new philosophy. It’s the end-result that matters and a little pain along the way does not hurt. At the end of the day, the exhaustion just anaesthetizes any suffering for me, or maybe I just cannot be bothered anymore. This selective apathy pleases me.

Maybe I’ve finally learnt to stop caring so much that it hurts.