You can be in the middle of the most mundane, routine, regular day when an existential crisis hits you. Often, it's the strange, small things that make you question the validity of the life you live, or the work you do, the routine you have chosen to control you. This is all despite having made a conscious decision to adhere to that routine and disregard all the rhetoric on how you should give up your city job and chase your dreams all the way to Tuscany, on the back of a handsome, leather-jacket-clad stranger's bike :)
Small things, indeed, like a routine survey that questions if you feel content in the workplace and if it aligns with your long-term plans for life. Or like an in-the-middle-of-the-rush moment when you find yourself staring out of the windows of the city's tallest buildings, looking down at Colombo's twinkling lights and wondering how you ended up becoming something you had one day vowed you would never become.
Maybe "crisis" is too strong a word -- I think I'll stick to "wonderings," although, of course, that is not a word, per se :)
Small things, indeed, like a routine survey that questions if you feel content in the workplace and if it aligns with your long-term plans for life. Or like an in-the-middle-of-the-rush moment when you find yourself staring out of the windows of the city's tallest buildings, looking down at Colombo's twinkling lights and wondering how you ended up becoming something you had one day vowed you would never become.
Maybe "crisis" is too strong a word -- I think I'll stick to "wonderings," although, of course, that is not a word, per se :)
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