When I was young, around 11 or 12, I had convinced myself that, as soon as I hit 16, I was going to move out of my mother's house, find a fabulous flat, get a brilliant paid job, have loads of swanky parties with swanky friends, meet the man of my dreams and live happily ever after. I was going to be an Adult, with a capital A. It was all planned out. I really truly believed that at 16, I would be old enough to go out into the real world and live for myself, make all those decisions that grown ups need to make. Of course, once I turned 16, I realised that those childish dreams wouldn't be coming true, that I was still just a child. These things would happen, just not now.
Maybe at 18.
Or maybe at 21.
I'm now approaching my 25th birthday and I have a flat - although it's the opposite of fabulous. I temp, so my brilliant paid job is still a million miles away. I have friends - I doubt they would describe themselves as swanky, and we go out, have a good time, but it's not as glamorous or as carefree as I once dreamed it to be. I do have a man though and he is pretty dream worthy
So I have the basic ingredients of my 'dream life' but I'm still waiting for that feeling. That feeling of being an Adult. Right now, I feel like I'm A Dolt, struggling with debt and bills, trying not to lose what lousy job I have this week, pretending that everything is a-ok whenever I see my friends who seem to have mastered this adulthood.....and it's too damn hard. This being alive thing. Struggling every day with the petty little things, knowing that one day, one day sooner than I think, we'll all be dust and ashes and nothing we have ever done will amount for anything.
The TV I watch, the books I read, the movies I see.....who cares?
The people I meet, the food I eat, the clothes I wear..... none of it matters.
The only place I feel alive is when I'm asleep. And I dream, of such fantastic things, of experiences that blow your mind, of places I will never go.....
I dream of being a child, waiting to grow up.
Maybe at 18.
Or maybe at 21.
I'm now approaching my 25th birthday and I have a flat - although it's the opposite of fabulous. I temp, so my brilliant paid job is still a million miles away. I have friends - I doubt they would describe themselves as swanky, and we go out, have a good time, but it's not as glamorous or as carefree as I once dreamed it to be. I do have a man though and he is pretty dream worthy
So I have the basic ingredients of my 'dream life' but I'm still waiting for that feeling. That feeling of being an Adult. Right now, I feel like I'm A Dolt, struggling with debt and bills, trying not to lose what lousy job I have this week, pretending that everything is a-ok whenever I see my friends who seem to have mastered this adulthood.....and it's too damn hard. This being alive thing. Struggling every day with the petty little things, knowing that one day, one day sooner than I think, we'll all be dust and ashes and nothing we have ever done will amount for anything.
The TV I watch, the books I read, the movies I see.....who cares?
The people I meet, the food I eat, the clothes I wear..... none of it matters.
The only place I feel alive is when I'm asleep. And I dream, of such fantastic things, of experiences that blow your mind, of places I will never go.....
I dream of being a child, waiting to grow up.
