a planet adrift
What a strange age to be. I don’t get it, almost everyone I know seems to be going through the same experience, and yet, no one warned us this would happen!!
Everyone tells you when you’re a kid that when you grow up, you can be anything you want to be. But that’s not really true is it? Because when you grow up there are bills to pay and certain expectations to live up to.
Be a doctor, they say. But they don’t say that you can get kicked out of the biology major at your college for sucking in organic chemistry.
Don’t have a dream career? You’ll figure it out eventually. There’s something out there for everyone… never mind the fact that most Americans hate their job. Oh, and by the way, that entry-level job out of college is REALLY going to suck. But it’ll get better! …probably.
Okay, that’s the end of my bitter rant. I’ve honestly gone through my panic mode a couple months ago, and I’m pretty okay with everything right now. What’s hardest about this time period is actually the waiting.
I feel homeless. My apartment falls apart a lot— the sink constantly leaks (no matter how many times we fix it), the light fixture in our kitchen recently fell, etc. It’s just hard because knowing my lease is up pretty soon makes me realize how impermanent this whole situation is. I don’t really care about that weird stain on the carpet because I’m going to be moving out soon. I’m holding off on buying glasses for my kitchen because I want less things to have to move. We never did end up getting an actual dinning table…
Going back to my parent’s home doesn’t really feel like home either. A lot of my stuff is still there, but all I really get when I see it is a nagging feeling that I really need to move that stuff out. The food in the kitchen is always unfamiliar, and on a recently cluttered table of things, nothing belongs to me.
Even going to my boyfriend’s place reminds me that I don’t really belong anywhere. He says that I leave my hair ties all over the place, he even finds strands of my hair in his shoes (ew, sorry, gross). But really those are just remnants of my presence, not any real ownership of anything in his house.
So I feel like I’m waiting. I’m waiting for the day I have a home once again. I know that where ever I live next is not going to be anything permanent for the rest of my life; I’ll probably move quite a few more times. But right now I just feel particularly unsettled. Strange, because my other college living situations where just as temporary, but maybe I’m just ready now for something… more. I want a place I feel invested enough in to put something up on the walls. And maybe even finally buy some glasses for my kitchen.
