(Third week of May.)
I’m in a slump. A rut. The pause button of my life has been pressed.
Never before have I understood stood “living for the weekend” better than I do at this point in my life. I’ve been working at my new full-time job for three weeks now, and with every passing day I feel more like a ghost of myself. When work finally ends, and I’m allowed to go home, all I really have the energy and desire to do is to take a nice warm bath, eat a yummy dinner, and go to bed. It’s actually quite pathetic, and I am happy to admit it. Acceptance is the first step to recovery, after all. I miss the days when I could stay up till 2:00 in the morning, and wake up for my 8:00 class unfazed. Nowadays, I’m in bed by 10:30, and just waking up in the morning feels like a great accomplishment.
Part of me, a very large part, is terrified that I’m going to let myself get stuck in this shadow of a life, and before I know it, I’ll be thirty, living alone, spending my days watching Matlock reruns on TV and eating microwave dinners before going to bed at 9:30 precisely. I spent my teenage years dreaming and yearning for the future days when I would be an independent adult with time and money to spare. I imagined myself going on adventure after adventure, having grand nights out with my friends, never having to sacrifice a social life for work. Now that I am an adult, I honestly don’t know how to handle myself. The child in me still wants all of those naïve daydreams, but reality is a cruel manager.
Until I can get a grip on this strange thing called adulthood, I’ll just have to follow the advice of my good pal Charlie Brown. I shall only dread one day at a time.