21

Years ago I created a word document entitled "Stop Thinking", which sounds like, even to myself now, some sort of turn in style towards more rational and beneficial personal reflections. How it really started, as I found out by reading the first entries, was more like a scream of "stop and get some sleep" to a confused and tormented mind. What it prompted was the exact opposite to the stoppage of thinking. There had been steady need to turn back to that document up till a year ago. Was it because of the appearance of ZK in my life?

If it is, why is that so scary? I know why. Anything that initiated from other things or people has the potential to be out of my control and get ephemeral. Perhaps my tendency to be passive is what misses me out on the intiation of a lot of aspects of life and is landing me now and then to the gripping fear that things aren't real enough. I live in the bay area, I found someone I could describe with nothing but perfect, I'm healthy and confident with my appearance and I'm appreciating the opportunities for personal development. All the best things in the world, except it's not the only world. A trip back to Shanghai, 2 weeks living with my mum makes everything transient and surreal. Job, music, Keke, nothing I could count on for happiness. It becomes easy to imagine what happened back then, my upbringing with my mum, is the realest. Has always been and will always be. That the upbringing in question is dysfunctional begs the familiar feeling of panic and helplessness in the "real (but surreal) world".

How can I feel like I'm returning to the rightful (rightful and not transient) world without getting all guilty about abandoning the old one? Is the coming of balance just a matter of time? Quite likely. 11.5 years in China and 9.5 years in Singapore with mum make 21 years. Another 21 magical years of independence could set me free. "21" is real.