It’s been a long time (coming).
... and it’s 2018.
Despite me being thirty-fucking-two, still in a library, still writing (terribly), still not knowing what to do with myself, or my life....
I’m still here.
Still with the same boyfriend from the last entry, the longest relationship that I’ve had without it entirely crashing down - we broke up once, briefly - in Waikiki, in a restaurant, out of all places, where i sat amongst tourists and homeless men with signs begging for weed as i ugly cried in public, not giving a fuck on what people thought because i was heartbroken for gods sake - we’re good now, thanks.
I’ve made some strides. I got an office job. Two, really, but as hopeful as i was - I’ll never have to eat top ramen and I can actually afford to take a vacation - the novelty wore off quickly and I was an office/working girl no more.
Disillusioned by images of what I thought I wanted to be but the sad reality that working in an office with people you semi hate yet can kind of tolerate and fighting the strong urge to jump out the floor-to-ceiling office window because no, i would rather not contribute to the next taco Tuesday - it was a valiant effort.
So here I am. 32, unemployed, and more lost than I ever was at 23.
... and yet, as much as I love the self-depreciation and loathing, there is a difference. Maybe it’s the therapy, maybe it’s the fact that I am in a semi-stable (ish) relationship with someone I don’t consider a child with a grown man’s anatomy, there is a semblance of peace. As much as I see myself as a failure, an epic one, at that (mind the pun, they’re everywhere) I have to realize that I have come a long way.
I managed to land a job that compensated me more than my actual skill and talent level, it ended horribly, but fuck, the high was real, and I guess it’s something? (Not really)
Not to say that I’m no longer a fuck up, because I am, after all of these years riled with mistake after grave mistake. I’ve managed to alienate half of my parents (two guesses who), have one sister who refuses to talk to me, have another one who can semi tolerate me (because you know, I babysit for FREE) I still have one who I can talk to, and that’s okay. One willing and loving sister is better than none.
I honestly don’t know where I’m going with this.
Maybe one day I’ll figure shit out. Maybe one day I’ll stop being a defiant child stuck in a 30-something’s body and make a name out of myself. One day, when I finally get the courage to stop living in my head, and start fucking doing something about my sad existence. Maybe.
Just maybe.
