This year, the year of 2018, is 10 years (or thereabouts) since I finished high school. Yep, I finished in 2007, and that would make me 28 right now. Now that I have revealed maybe the most sensitive subject someone could ever reveal to anyone (my age!), that makes us besties, right? And now that we’re besties, let me just say that on New Year’s Day, I decided that any future 10 year reunion ex-classmates would organise, I would politely decline in going to. And the reason was that my life, probably in comparison to others, would be insignificant. Sure, I’m one of the owners of a café, but there was a fear creeping at the back on my mind just last month, of not measuring up to the potential greatness of other people who would be at this ‘hypothetical’ but equally ‘possible’ reunion. I mean, I could be talking to doctors, lawyers, teachers, politicians, accomplished musicians, lotto winners, guys and girls with multiple houses and cars, just generally people who are living it up and are maybe on the surface feeling happy. This insecurity came to a head a couple of days ago in Valentines Day. I was working. It was a slow day, and I realised that I was single. I had been single for my entire life, and the thought of ‘catching up’ with everyone from high school, who could all be in relationships or married with kids already, scared me. If other people were ‘up there’ in terms of status and accomplishments, then I was sure ‘down there’, not measuring up.
