What iffing life

Where does time go? From the moment I open my eyes the seconds, minutes and hours sweep by. In a single blink, the sky erupts in a blanketing hue of orange and the darkness returns.

A week has passed since I stepped out of my daily routine. Just a week ago, I got out of bed at a certain time; hoped not to face traffic on the federal highway; fought a gnarling ball of anxiety in my stomach while my weathered Volvo careened up 17 floors up the cramped NST car-park; took a deep breath and opened the door to the lion's den to face yet another day as an incompetent employee.

Now I have a different type of anxiety churning in my stomach.

Although my time the past week has been an eventful. From my wheel bearing almost falling off while driving at a snail's pace to Cyberjaya in the cool night breeze; spending the little time with my boyfriend trying to the surpres the annoying buzz of worry building up in my mind to putting on my best face in the vain attempt at selling myself to prospective employers -- I feel like the sand in the hourglass is quickly sifting downwards.

Whether it's the anxiety of finding a new job before my bank balance reaches a measly five ringgit or the thought that I'm squandering time instead of writing my book or even the thought of an impending marriage or break-up in the next year -- my mind is running out of places to hide.

I stay awake during the night, staring at the computer screen with a cigarette in my hand, trying not to think of the what ifs.

What if I don't find a job? What if I don't finish my stories? What if I don't my article? What if I end up alone next year at the age of 26 going on 27?

As my boyfriend says, "Have faith and forget about the what ifs. Think about what to do."

If I only knew what to do...