Drive.

To drive along the highway back home is an accomplishment for me. It's strange how the sense of accomplishment never lingers long enough to keep me happy. The constant longing for such a feeling perhaps is only sparked by my inability to consistently accomplish things often enough for me to recognize.

My parents were really lax with how they brought me up. They never pressured me and constantly gave me recognition for any achievement which came by coincidentally, they were often very very tactful with criticism.

How often do I get to walk up on stage to receive a reward of sorts? Not very often.

My bag of achievements only came by during University when I actually started for the first time scoring well for the subjects. Completing Honours, is yet another achievement.

But why do I always have this nagging feeling that I'm never good enough? Does this recognition always come from someone else? Or does the problem lie with my failure to recognize these?

Is this the reason why I keep thinking I'm not good enough for higher paying jobs and better companies? My doubts. My lack of drive. My inability to accept criticism.

This recognition, I realize, ultimately comes from myself. My own disapproval of my capabilities. And it's something that I have to rectify.

:)

Back home in Johor right now never felt better. Settling in my bed. But it doesn't feel the same anymore. My room has been unoccupied for a while so there's this musky smell emitting from my pillows. So are the clothes I left in the cupboard. I'm typing from the table I used to mess up during my college days. Now It's neat as fuck. I assure you it will be messy in a few days time.

This is a space I used to call mine, and unlike how I took over my brother's room when he left for college, there was no one to take over mine. The fact that I still have this space, I feel, is a metaphor to signify no matter how far or how long I'm gone, there is still a place for me at home. A place I can come back to when I need to. A place that no one else can offer.