What’s Next In 2018?

I think it’s time I stop apologising for not writing on this blog for a long period of time; it has almost become like a regular blogging pattern by itself.

Ever since I left Mauritius in 2014 to pursue a Bachelor of Arts in Malaysia I’ve been finding less and less time for blogging on this blog. But I’ve been writing more. Writing assignments and essays, then it slowly evolved to writing online articles and more assignments for companies who paid me.

I remember that getting paid for my writing was a huge achievement for me. I had this feeling of ‘I made it’. I had always wanted to prove to the world that I was meant to be a writer (although I did mean fiction writer…). But then, it wasn’t so special anymore. Writing is now just a job.

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21 Lessons Learnt On Turning 21

On Tuesday May 3rd, I turned 21.

Although some might say the opposite, 21 years is a pretty long period of time. 21 years feels like a lifetime, for all the positive and negative experiences I’ve gained and endured. 21 years is 252 months of existence on this Earth. It is around 1,095 weeks. Approximately 7,665 days.

It is freaking 6.623e+8 seconds.

Of course, in comparison to the time of the universe, this lapse of time is very very very insignificant, but it is all relative anyway.

Without further ado, here are 21 lessons that I learnt (most of the time via the hard way) during those 21 years and that will probably stay on with me for a very long time. Moreover, I wanted to make this post a little special, therefore, each lesson is presented to you in a picture-text form, designed and personalized by me.

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The Power To Help Is In Our Hands

As from today, I’ll be trying to display my own original pictures instead of Google Images. It’s better this way 🙂 and more fun!

Back in 2009-2010, I badly wanted to become a clinical psychologist. Of course, the writer was still simmering inside, but I needed something else… I didn’t want to study writing because I don’t want to be compelled of doing something I love and I feared to stop loving it if I was too much forced into it. 

Today, I’m reconsidering this.

Because I recently remembered why I actually wanted to meddle with mental illnesses.

The reason wasn’t to be called ‘Doctor’ or to have money or even because I considered myself as being one of the mad people. No. The primary reason that pulled me into psychology and struggling to remember all the possible names of the various mental disorders was that I just wanted to help.

I could have become a doctor, but I didn’t want to study science in high school and had already opted for languages anyway. So the nearest possible career was becoming a psychologist. I remembered that I just felt so excited to be able to cure, or at least counsel, teens like me who suffered depression, bipolar moods…

Really, this should be the main reason for people to engage in medicine: the power to help others.

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