"You'll suffer if you don't study." Dad warned from the other end of the phone.
I pondered over his words. What would happen?
The teachers would frown at me.
Students would either avoid me like plague, or throw pitiful glances in my direction.
My parents would be so disappointed. And if my relatives ask me how it went, then I would have to bury myself in the ground.
What if the institute removes me? My years in college would be wasted.
All the new connections would be gone. How would I face them?
What would I do then?
Would I be able to rely on creative writing alone?
Am I even that good at it? Would that be enough to earn a living?
Even if it were, wouldn't I have a pressure to keep submitting my works on time?
Would it not be more of a burden then? How would I force myself to get ideas?
Wouldn't I lose love for writing as well?
How would I carry on like that? How would I get ideas then?
Perhaps that wouldn't be my cup of tea then. Writing is, and shall always remain a hobby.
What would I do then?
Would I enter into singing fests? But I get so anxious around people. How would I sing in crowds?
How on earth would I make singing my profession?
Even if I could, what if I am just mediocre? I would barely earn then.
And what if I do flourish?
How would I handle all that glamour? The fear of always being watched and pried by the media?
It would totally ruin me.
Seems like singing cannot be my means of survival either. It is kept to myself in closed doors.
What would I do then?
Wouldn't I become depressed in first place?
The fear of not being able to achieve anything in life?
What if I am not able to get back on my feet?
What if I sit idly at home, relying on others yet?
What I keep dwelling my life away?
What if I waste my prime years into nothingness?
The days would never return.
What would I do then?
"So you better pull yourself together and start studying." Dad sighed, slightly calmer this time.
I nodded. There were no two ways about it.
But first, I needed to stop overthinking.
