What do you do when you’re 32, your body is broken down, and you feel like you’re still waiting for your life to begin?
Don’t get me wrong, these 32 years have not been boring. Pick any subject and I’ll have a related experience to talk about. But I feel like everything that’s happened so far, has happened to me.
When does my life begin?
You know, the one in which I get to make choices. The one in which I get to follow passions, dreams. The one in which I get to be… me. The real me, who I catch glances of here and there, but who gets lost in all the clutter – the clutter of society, and expectations, and rules, and responsibilities, and disability, and anxiety, and AAAAAAAGHH!!!!!
“Do.” “Act.” “Today’s the day.” “Carpe Diem.” “Don’t let things hold you back.”
Fuck these people with their inspirational quotes. Fuck these silver spoon-sucking ignoramuses who pat themselves on the back for “enlightening” those they tread upon. Fuck the outpourings of positivity that comes from never being forced to realize that some things are, in fact, impossible. There are some of us stumbling in the darkness of truth, and this bullshit just creates more infuriating clutter.
But I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay. Everything’s fine, just fine. Nothing I can’t handle, nothing I can’t get through.
BUT I DON’T WANT TO JUST “GET THROUGH” ANYMORE.
I
WANT
TO FUCKING
LIVE.
Maybe Someday…
Yelling to Myself 