This is the conclusion I came to today. I was lying on a couch, trying to think when is the next time I don't need to worry about anything. The answer: My funeral. Right now, there's school. During Christmas holiday, there's applying to a University. After the holiday, there's more school, studying for the final exams in particular. After that, there's organizing my graduation party and possibly moving to a foreign country. Then there's more studying. When studying ends, there's work. Getting a job, doing well in that job. If I get into my dream profession, writer and/or film director, the stress will never end. I will always have to come up with something new.
I have also made another conclusion about stress: sometimes it doesn't matter. Sometimes it's worth it. I know I will most certainly be a workaholic. I am already, in a way. Studying isn't my favorite way of spending time, but I'm anxious to get everything done long before the deadlines. Just so I could start new projects earlier. And then again new projects. It's driving me towards a perfect burnout, but it doesn't seem to matter to me. And honestly speaking, being a film director OR a writer would never make me happy. I need to be both. My time will never be sufficient. But that hurry and stress would be worth it.
Despite all these deep thoughts about all the hurry and stress being worth it, right now the thing that would make me happy is going to bed and sleeping for at least a week.
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