Wait.. it’s October? Where the hell did September go?
It seems like time is just speeding by. The summer flew by quickly enough, but now it’s October and Fall, and Thanksgiving is next weekend, and my birthday is only fifteen days away, and my anniversary with Andrew is only twenty-four days away and before you know it, it will be Halloween, or Christmas, and then next year. Yes, I meant to run on like that. It just seems like life is speeding by, and I have absolutely nothing to show for being almost twenty-three. I have a job I like, sure, but I make just above minimum wage, still live at home, and would starve to death if I even tried to move out on my own (which, in all honesty, I can’t even afford anyways.)
I feel like I’ve accomplished nothing in the last 22 years of my life, and 23 with just be another year where nothing changes. I want to be a writer, get published, but my writer’s block has been mind numbingly strong lately regardless of how long I find myself staring at a blank computer screen. I want to move out, but can’t afford to live on my own–even the little money I’ve saved wouldn’t pay one month’s rent. I just want to feel like I have something that I can call my own, something that I can hold onto and be able to say: “Yes, I’m 23 years old, and still live at home, but this is mine. This is what I have to show.” Something which even slightly resembles a life. I know I sound ungrateful–I’m not meaning to. I know I am very lucky to have great parents would support me through anything, a great family in general, and a boyfriend who has put up with my craziness and somehow manages to still love me. And that’s wonderful, truly. But it’s pure luck, the long end of the stick.
The jealously and envy I’m filled with chokes me. Everyone around me is seeming to move on, to find their passion, to make something of themselves. And then there is me: still as lost as ever. No matter how hard I seem to push, it’s always half a step forward and fifteen backwards. I find who I am to be such a sad, pathetic person. It’s the only way I can describe it: I find it absolutely sad being me.