Update on Life

I'm going to try and write a post that's not a giant metaphor.

Life is good and school is good and I'm happy to go to work every day and I'm happy to come home every day and that's good. I get home and I hate home and I go and do work to distract myself and then I can't switch off from work and then I'm up at midnight crying uncontrollable and laughing hysterically simultaneously and I know that something is wrong but I don't know what it is.

And then the holidays come and I get a break and I colour in and then I injure my wrist and I can't write for a week and this is why I can't have nice things. I go and look at houses and talk to important financial people and plan for a life where I don't have to avoid home or eat dinner at 8:30 or do the things I don't want to do. That life is so close I can taste it. It tastes like food I've chosen. Like a high vegetable to meat ratio.

So I feel guilty for every dollar I spend that puts the Happy Life off by another 2.4 seconds. I feel guilty when I buy a nice dress to wear to my awards ceremony at uni or a $4 lipstick or the tank of petrol I need to drive a friend home. And then I make lists and budgets and spreadsheets and I track every cent and I classify everything in my crazy categories and I keep my job at Coles to justify buying my membership with the dragons. And the lists work. The budget eases the guilt. My whole life is easing guilt.

But I need a hobby that can keep me sufficiently distracted from work that I only question my mental health every other day. The only problem is that I don't like doing anything and I never have. I have never held a hobby for longer than about twelve months. And all the suggestions I get are impractical or unappealing. No thank you I don't want to participate in a team sport the only thing worse than sport is teams. Sorry I don't have any land but I would love to start a veggie patch. No I can't do anything involving writing or colouring or even using a computer to be honest because the pain in my wrist is always unbearable.

I don't really know what I'm doing with my life but at least I have a vague direction and I'm getting all the career opportunities I want and I can afford to buy my own home which is becoming increasingly rare in my generation so I'm not here to complain. This is just what my life is now. This is what I've worked for unwavering for as many years as I can remember. This is why I studied and worked instead of every going anywhere or seeing anyone. It's nearly time for me to set some new goals. How exciting.

The Invisible Light of My Life

So here’s the thing about holding an invisible candle for someone: it’s invisible. And then you seem like the jerk who’s not willing to pick anything up because you’re holding this fucking invisible thing. And you feel this incredible guilt for not making other people and guilt is a thing that I am so familiar with and you think, well, if that person can’t see the candle either and they don’t know you’re putting it down, what’s the problem? But they see. They see because they watch you hold the candle with baited breath and putting it down seems like such a huge step to them and then you go to pick up the candle again after you’ve done your share of the work and it’s not even there anymore. Because you have responsibilities to the world, because saying no to someone is hard, because the candle is so dim and you don’t even know if it will last the trip with such a dull flame, with such a tiny glimmer of hope.

I counted days. I remember that so well. I remember being upset that I lent someone my sharpies and couldn’t update my count. But what was I even counting for? The distance hope that things might change and something might make everything ok. But that was just a dream. Wishes are not horses. For all the things I’ve wished so long and hard about… Now I wish for things I already have not to go away.