The only obsession that has been filling my mind the past week is the impending reply of my application. In the most gruelling sort of agony, it has consumed me in a way that I am not proud of. While my superfluous concern might be an affirmation of my tenacious desire for a positive outcome, it has also unhinged my usual calm and collected self. Indeed, the over-zealous and anxious anticipation of answers always seemed rather familiar with me, probably due to the need for some sort of ratification that is characteristic of the middle child. These expectations are analogous to being perched on the verge of a very tall cliff - one motion away from descending into an abysmal imbroglio and being graciously rescued onto safe ground.
I happen to be the type that dwell and brood too long over matters that are already beyond my control, typically job interviews, examination results, romantic could-have conversations that I thought might have impressed, and other issues of similar nature. There must be a term for this behaviour. Not paranoia, I hope.
The new week starts tomorrow, and hence also the vicious expectancy cycle of an outcome I pretend to be sanguine about. I really ought to be less neurotic about such things. Geez.
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