2023 Year in Review

WARNING

Tags: Slacking off, Mediocrity, Daydreaming, Escapism, Solitude, Certainty

The semester has ended, and the year is drawing to a close.

In the first half of the year, I was in a complete state of slacking off—my Steam playtime for Battlefield games speaks for itself. Unsurprisingly, my grades were terrible, and I nearly failed my finals.

During the summer, I planned to tutor to earn some money, hoping to save up for an astronomical telescope. But life had other plans—too many unexpected expenses left me with little savings. Still, I took the chance to reconnect with a few old friends. As cliché as it sounds, the farther I go, the more I cherish the warmth and kindness of those familiar faces.

In the second half of the year, I officially joined the Qian Xuesen Space Science Honors Program.

Unique engineering math analysis, even more challenging advanced physics (T), theoretical mechanics, and a second attempt at complex analysis—which I barely scraped through the first time. Every day, I struggled to keep up with assignments, labs, and extracurriculars. On the surface, it seemed like I had turned things around, trading aimlessness for productive busyness. But in reality, I knew I wasn’t truly engaged. At first, I was enthusiastic and attentive in class, but soon I slipped back into old habits—skimming through thousands of words on Zhihu during lectures instead of paying attention.

I had plenty of free time outside class, but most of it was fragmented, and I wasted it. If I didn’t have lab work in the evening, I’d order takeout (yes, I ate more takeout than cafeteria food this semester) and lie in bed. Often, I wasn’t even sleeping—just avoiding responsibilities and learning nothing, telling myself that resting would make me more efficient later.

This semester, I barely played games. At least, whenever I had free time, I didn’t feel like gaming. I told myself not to slack off, but not playing games seemed to be my limit—I never had the discipline to proactively study. So I lied to myself, pretending that not gaming meant I was trying. In truth, most of my time was spent daydreaming, accomplishing nothing.

I often escape—whether from studying or life itself.

I leave assignments until the deadline, always believing I can finish them on time. When it’s time to eat, I can’t be bothered to dress properly and queue in the cafeteria, so I order from a familiar takeout place and shuffle downstairs in slippers when the notification arrives. I won’t cut my hair until it’s unbearable, reassuring myself that I’m too busy with school to care.

I once kept up a morning routine for over a month, but after a couple of forced late nights, I gave up entirely. For 8:30 AM classes, my alarm was set for 7:50. I skipped breakfast for months, ordering takeout at 11:15 during the second half of class so I could pick it up right after.

Lights out at 11:30 PM, but I’d still lie awake in bed, scrolling through social media and forums until guilt forced me to put my phone down and sleep.

I’ve grown used to sleeping with earplugs. It’s not particularly noisy around me, but I feel uneasy without them—any small sound grabs my attention. Too sensitive.

In this class of high achievers, I’m near the bottom. I can’t fully detach myself from worldly concerns—grades, rankings, grad school admissions, my future. I want a better life but refuse to work for it; I crave love but hesitate to take the next step. Isn’t that just pathetic?

I hate this version of myself, yet I lack the real motivation to change.

This year’s reflection might sound too negative, but given my current mindset, it’s hard to look back with much fondness. I’m not blaming my past self—I just resent that, despite growing older, I haven’t matured. I still lack clear goals, still waver in my dreams.

Yet, somehow, life hasn’t strayed too far off course.

I’ve firmly chosen aerospace and taken a small step forward. The second half of the year was slightly more purposeful than the first. A minor emotional setback made me less eager to settle down. I’ve been disappointed in my country and its people time and again, yet hope still flickers. I’ve lost much, but I still cling to a shred of attachment to this world.

I often feel cursed, wondering if some karmic debt from a past life haunts me. I’ve committed no great sins in this one (though I can’t claim any great virtues either), yet in matters of family, love, opportunities, and future prospects, I always seem to draw the short straw. Last night, I dreamed my parents scolded me so harshly I cried—the bitterness lingered even after waking.

Still, I’m alive.

Staying alive is hard, but despite my bad luck, I’m still here.

Maybe I’ll indulge in a little baseless hope—things will get better.

Good morning, good night. Peace, year after year.