I’m now 22 and I have been ripping my hair off trying to discover what it is I should be doing. What’s the right thing to do at this age? Should I have graduated already? Should I have a fiance? Or some kind of lover? Should I be fifty pounds less now? What the hell am I supposed to be doing at 22 years of age?. All any type of advice I get from the older generation is tell me to not let life pass me by. They say this while pointing their judgmental index finger at me while adding something like, “well, when I was your age..” blah blah fucking blah. Sometimes I think maybe I should go back to finish up school, but then I think about all the other things I wouldn’t want to miss out on. I want to travel, and not be attached to any form of responsibility, even if it means owning a car. I don’t want any of it, but then I want it all. At 22 years of age all I have is a half assed expensive education, an ex boyfriend who dumped me days before my 22nd birthday, and people who call themselves friends when they’re just the type of, “I’m too full of myself to care about you today, how about next week?” friends. At 22 years old, I have nothing to show for but a few good drawings, and a ‘I can kick your ass’ attitude that was developed at my early stages of my adult hood after experiencing life outside my comfort zone. Just a 22 year old girl who draws, reads comics and plays video games and apparently has no life. And no boyfriend.
Just writing that I can sense my face getting flushed with anger as my mind flashes with a bunch of crap I had gone through with that jerk. No worries, I’ll spare any poor soul from having to read about how a poor little girl who ended up hurt. Hell, I made sure I made use of that hurt and turned it into some major motivation. That’s the thing about me. I try to turn all the negative junk in my life and turn it into fuel. My running gets better, faster, and I get stronger in both body and mind. Well that’s what I like to think anyways. My life seems so half assed. Everything I do is half assed. Even my relationships seemed half assed as if to say, “I like you, but that’s it.” Like when I draw a very good drawing, but I get scared I’ll ruin it if I finish it so I leave it like that. Sometimes I come up with the conclusion that the real problem here is fear. I have so many fears that when I try to open myself up to acknowledge these fears, I turn the other way and make myself believe that i’m too good to have fears. I’m too good to go to community college, I’m too good for any man out there, I’m to damn good to live my life attached to dull responsibilities. Hence comes out that eccentric part of me. Gemeni’s are said to be twins, share two personalities. Then I come to a conclusion that I must be a special kind of schizo that’s probably not so severe but still there.
The last conclusion I draw out could be the most prominent one; I’m just scared of the world.