Category: Blog

It’s been exactly 7 years, 7 months and 2 days since I last posted on this blog and my oh my a lot has changed.

Rediscovering this blog has brought to light a lot of thoughts and emotions I have been repressing as of late. In some ways reading my posts from 2015 felt like discovering a time capsule buried deep underground – I wonder if 15 year old Josh had the foresight to start this blog for exactly this reason, though I may be giving myself too much credit here.

7 years, 7 months and 2 days since my last post, over a decade since my first, time really does stop for no man. These days it feels like every time I blink a week has gone by. It’s not that I feel like i’m running out of time, it’s more a sense of where has the time gone? To use an analogy, it’s like opening up a packet of crisps you’d get in a tesco meal deal and after two bites there’s only crumbs left or when you take a 15 minute nap and you wake up 3 hours later. Physical changes in myself and my surroundings make this all too real, I don’t think 15 year old Josh would be able to recognise how I look now, he’d probably think I was 30 years old. My friends are getting engaged and I get hangovers to the point where I have pretty much quit drinking alcohol. More poignantly perhaps, and what truly worries me the most, my parents are getting old. My mum’s 63 now. I can see the spring in her step deflate, she dyes her hair more often, she tires more easily. These days I come face to face with death more often than I’d like through work and it’s made me a better man and has helped me come to terms with our temporal nature. However,I find it doesn’t help reconcile the fear I feel about losing my parents – and so I pray.

Reading through my posts I can see that I used to sprinkle in religious terminology and imagery to highlight certain points. I guess I’ve always been christian, after all I pretty much grew up in the church. I have however rejected God for far too long. I’m a lot more confident in myself now and have no problems admitting that I am insecure, I believe this has reflected itself in my faith. For decades I would pray for a sign, a miracle, a tap on the shoulder to let me know you’re real. But how foolish I was. It’s the nature of man to doubt one’s self. Unless you have a psychopathic level of self-confidence or you have a fool’s amount of self-belief a sign from God will, in a weeks time, reduce into a fever dream or a hallucination. It’s of late that I have come to realise that truly the signs are everywhere. In 2026 society has silently amalgamated “faith” and “blind faith” to be synonymous. The truth is, there is no such thing as “blind faith” if you open your eyes out on to reality everything points towards God. “Seek and you shall find.”

I interact with a lot of people every day. Unfortunately, more often than not I meet these people during their worst times. In some ways I think empathy is a 6th sense we all have and mine seems to be particularly fine tuned (unsure whether this is a blessing or a curse).The fact that I enjoyed thinking as deeply as any 15 year old could internally, making honest but futile attempts to understand myself and make sense of my inner dialogue, is a testament to how much I am fascinated by mankind. I’m not sure where it has originated from but the following phrase has always resonated with me, “every person that comes into your life arrives carrying an entire world of their own.” I take away a couple points from this phrase which I hope resonates with whoever may stumble across this post and read this far along. Firstly, without even being conscious about it, we all live our lives as if we’re the main character in a movie. Think about it, the entirety of your existence and interaction with the universe has been through your own senses. I believe this points towards our selfish nature. I could unpack this further but for the time being I’ll conclude that being aware of this has helped me be a better man. Secondly, in the past decade friends, colleagues and family have come and gone. I have always struggled to come to terms with this. Childishly, I’d always look for something or someone to blame or rather to explain this. I’ve come to understand this as an extrapolation of our selfish nature. I’ve learnt to let go of the reins and to cease control. After all, we’re all main characters in our own movies. It wouldn’t make sense for us to direct and produce another’s script.

This has been a bit of a verbal diarrhea for which I apologise. I do, however, feel better having let it out. Apologies for the graphic imagery. I want to keep this up, I haven’t written in a very long time and I have a lot to get off my chest.

Josh,

Saturday 16th of May 2026.

• Uh Oh.

Never in my life has there been a more momentous day than the 17th of August and I-am-nervous.

Not only does the outcome of my A level examinations determine whether I gain entrance into my desired university, but it also symbolises the culmination of the seven years of secondary education I have received. It’s interesting to think that, if I were to not continue onto higher education, the grades I receive on the 17th will be the highest formal qualification I have.

Owing to the above, my anxiety surrounding that day seems completely justifiable; after all, my admittance into higher education depends on my grades and even if I were to go straight into work, good grades would be imperative in order for me to be employable.

However, I would be lying If I did not mention the fact that the tumultuous relationship I have had with results day is exponentially worsened due to my over-bearing pride. Indeed, due to my pride, what could be a mere heart-flutter moment turns into a deafening uproar of emotions just prior too, and just after I open my letter.

The consequence of my pride is as follows, a positive outcomes results in a simple acknowledgement that I have managed to do what was expected of me- I find myself devoid of the euphoria which would be expected after a desired outcome. The other side of this double-edged sword is that the repercussions of a negative outcome is not only a missed university placement but also a failure from my part to match expectations. In other words, what should be a slap on the face turns into a 30 storey high fall.

I find it funny how, in my head, I’m comparing my dilemma to that of Shakespeare’s Caius Martius or King Oedipus who’s downfall has been attributed to their hubris. Perhaps I should change my bio to ’21st century tragic hero’ or ‘the tragedy of the millennial hero’ – (probably not, Josh. 2018 update)

This is my first blog-type post in a while and I’m feeling very rusty. I think I just need to persevere and keep writing in order for the whole process to feel less clunky and to find/feel comfortable in my own narrative style.

Until next time,

Josh Kim