As I was writing a statement of purpose to send to Oxford University for M.St in Social and Economical History Program. Well, tbh, not many words came out. I was frustrated and this is the result.

Alternative Statement of Purpose.

Sad old fucker in the making. Bangkok, Thailand.

I thought I had what it takes to be somebody, to do it, to survive all this. I forgot to look around me, forgot to look inside, forgot the world we live in, the people on it.

I live in my head. I’ve lived in it ever since. It’s perfect in here. I could be something. In my head, there’s a different world, there’s different kind of people. This is where I belong. I sleepwalk through it, with a smile on my face. My hands grab my dreams so tight. The world shines so bright, it’s always sunny in here. The universe is calling me, me, my name, I’m the only one that matters. Time flies, or in fact, time doesn’t matter at all. I’m the present, I’m the past, and I’m the future -- I’m the king.

If I can’t be somebody, I intend to be nothing at all. I’d be here. You’d be here too. I’ll be all that I dreaded I would be when I was kid. A sad old fucker with a hint of the remorse past, a sign of an unrealized dream, sitting there at the office table, one finger up the ass, another at the keyboard, asking myself, will the next life be better? Pathetic fucker, with a kid or two maybe, and a simpleton for husband, some plans in my pockets that got ignored, some dishing from the boss, just have had the latest argument with friends, family, whatever, who will get the kids to school? How do we suppose to pay this? Shit like that and I’ll be lost forever in all those daily annoyances. Forget the world, forget the nebula that we could see from the observatory. Forget the creator vs evolution debate. Forget the newest technology that could take us to Saturn. Forget the mini big bang, the large Haldron Collider. Forget the space station, forget the robot, forget the awesome future that gonna come because I’m a sad little fucker, in a sad little house, with a sad little job, in a sad little town. In short, forget that I - I even exist. I, a fool who can not measure the distance between her and the bright spot in the sky. A little girl, lost in the noisy crowd, unable to be heard or seen. No wonder I’ll become deaf and blind.

100 years from now no one would even remember this pathetic fucker ever existed. I know because I won’t. I wont be the first. I’m among the majority here. We live in a shitload abyss, full of other sad fuckers who couldn’t make it, simpletons, losers, nobodies, scum. Very few got out, not me. The climb is too much a stake. A sad fucker couldn’t manage that. But then again, there are so many of us here, no one looks bothered. Some of us are content. At least, the motherfuckers don’t feel the pain. But I do.

Those dreams the ones that you see today, I’ll push them back in my head. They’ll forever be safe there. And I’ll take them to the grave with me.

But I’ll live till old age all right. Not gonna put a bullet in my head. Why the rush, the end is coming anyway. I’ll be a little observant. The fly on the wall, have a peak at the world turning.

I really thought I had what it takes, yes, I did. I was one big delusional motherfucker. Some fuckers slap the consciousness into my bones, the harsh reality into my head. And that’s why I’m writing to you now. Let’s hope those fuckers are not you. Let’s hope they are not at Oxford.