I think it’s safe to say that most of us have a ‘fear of missing out’. We don’t like to miss one social gathering because we are afraid that we’ll be excluded in the future. We stay up late – doing a bunch of irrelevant things just to stay up to date.

We browse Facebook relentlessly. We don’t want to miss a gossip, or a not-so-important news update from an acquaintance we haven’t seen for ten years.

I have a fear of missing out too, and I recently realised that it’s also applicable to my studies.

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Remember what I wrote in the last blog? I came to the conclusion that going two steps forward and one step back is still a progress well made.

Well, after that shitty day (and night, and midnight, and dawn), I had coffee with a good friend and we were just ranting about our days.

At one point, I said, ‘Life is hard.’

To which she replied, ‘It could have been worse.’

True.

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It’s one of those sleepless nights.

Tossing in bed for two hours. Can’t sleep. Changing position. Still can’t sleep. Sipping a glass of water. Changing sleeping position again. And again. Head’s hurting. Heart’s pounding. But still there’s no sleep.

Suddenly, it’s two a.m.

To be fair, I’ve a somewhat bad day. I blew my phone data by 500 mb (even when I’ve turned off my cellular data when it reached 100 per cent – yes, this is getting ridiculous), and I found out that my coffee machine that should have arrived this week wouldn’t be here until late May.

Really, I was disappointed.

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They said terrarium plants (you know, air plants) are extremely easy to take care of. Even if you don’t have green thumbs, you have to be a very awful gardener to let it die.

Mine’s dead.

On Valentine’s day this year, my boyfriend so sweetly, thoughtfully gave me a terrarium, saying, ‘Roses are too mainstream. Besides, they would die soon. Terrarium will live on.’ Sorry, Hunny, I suck at taking care of living plants.

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As a university student who works from home, I don’t think I know how many hours I spend on work vs life every day.

The general rule is to work eight hours daily from nine to five. Well, my classes start late and finish at seven, so I’d still be doing work/uni stuff way after five.

Plus, I keep on alternating between having ‘pleasure’ and doing ‘work’ – sometimes even doing both at the same time (think of watching TV while editing a video interview).

Everything has shifted. I can’t do ‘pens down’ by five because most of the time, my day has just begun. Don’t get me wrong, I love, love, love the flexibility of my life, it’s just that I wonder what life would be like if I don’t have to think of anything when the clock strikes five.

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‘I wonder why the older you are, the lonelier you get,’ my boyfriend said to me the other day. Yes, sadly, sometimes this is true.

My good friend (who’s currently doing the same Master’s degree) and I have said this over and over again as well. We are, currently, friendless. Most of our friends have gone back home for good and we – the ones that are left – find it difficult to forge new friendship.

Although having a partner helps a lot. There’s always something to do on the weekends.

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I’m a videographer.

It’s really weird to say it out loud, but yeah, at the moment, I kinda am. I mean, I shoot and edit videos for a living. Can you really believe it?

Neither do I. My work is not that good – there are still tons and tons of things to be improved, but currently I’m at that stage where I am finally able to take pride in my work, no matter how crappy it is.

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Stories, half-written. Ideas, half-baked. Blog posts, half-finished.

Halves. For the past few weeks, I can only do halves.

Some mornings I sit down in front of my computer with either a glass of milk or a cup of tea and I click on ‘Add New Post’ button. Three paragraphs later, I abandon the draft. The feelings are not there. The words are wrong. The voice is different.
I wake up each morning, not eager to get out of bed. I want my weekends badly. I want my days to just be filled with cooking and baking and reading books and having coffees and organising the apartment, but that’s not what the days have in store for me.

I wonder what’s wrong.

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I want you to remember that it wouldn't have made any difference to me. It's never made any difference to me when it came to you. I’d still pick you. I’ll always pick you.

Sarah J. Maas, Crown of Midnight

Some show their love through a hundred red roses. Some buy her ice cream even when he tells her to lose weight. Some walk her home. Him?

He went to his boss and said, ‘I need to change my leave – from Friday to Tuesday.’

He understood when she didn’t able to come home to him that Tuesday, and he waited for her, again.

He woke up on Saturday morning, excited, and braved the traffic.

And when he finally saw her for the first time in months, he smiled, rushed towards her, took her bulging luggages, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispered.

And so she beamed, and wondered if she could ever be even more loved than this.

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