Came across this long-lost page after listening to a podcast reminiscing the good old times and decided to pay a brief visit.

I'm turning thirty this year. Honestly, I am glad that I managed some form of meaningful existence over the last thirty years (or so I hope). At the same time, I don't yet feel the weight of becoming thirty. Perhaps the people around me daily are generally older than I am.

Looking back at my previous rants, the question about what is left of me without my career still haunts me. It feels almost damning that this is dawning on me just as I'm beginning to derive bona fide enjoyment and purpose from what I do.

Why have I given up some of the things I used to love? How different would things have been if I had pursued writing/journalism instead of medicine? Would the people I know treat me differently? I hate to admit it, but I think so.

How accountable do I have to be to others around me when I make decisions about myself? Why do I have to be accountable to others more so than myself? The inherent people-pleaser in me would chide myself for being hot-blooded or fickle when extreme thoughts come to mind. Then again, why should others' opinions matter so much?

I'm pitching myself against the people around me, and sometimes I feel like I want and should do more. But to what end? What if these don't give me gratification?

Do I, and should I, conform to social constructs? Why should I be obligated to do certain things? Am I just being a wilful child saying this? When did I start losing my self-discipline and self-respect?

What do I want to achieve in life? Perhaps there's something off about my hierarchy of needs.

Sometimes I envy those who are bold and willing to gamble. You have to lose a little something to gain something bigger, right?

I don't think I'd ever have the answers to these questions.