When we're young and innocent, people tell us to think of the future. To imagine what we might want to do as grown ups. We are expected to have dreams, plans, passions... Fairy-tales or darkened realities, they all come down to one thing- a future!
Then time swoops by, and one day you are standing there. The job, the rapidly decreasing bank account, the insurance papers and sickness covers with fine-prints, laundry bags, and evening news... And, of course, a lack of a social life. Until one crashes down, hits you over the head, and leaves you confused, but nonetheless very much alive.
I suppose I ought to explain myself. I was cleaning my room today and realized I had all that. Tomorrow I've gotta pay rent. The insurance policies have been paid (the wonders of direct-debit), and I've got my phone bill covered (although the fact that the earpiece of the phone is broken, and you can't actually hear a thing, well, that's a later problem). And I'm agonizing over things like savings accounts and the economic recession. I even had a vaguely serious discussion about high-schoolers future options in this financial climate.
Oh, and I say words like "...in this financial climate."
When did we grow up? I'm twenty for crying out loud!! But, I must admit, I enjoy ever bit of it, as scary as it sounds.
Then, of course, there are the problems. So many of them, but let's start with the interesting dramatics, the ones entitled 'lies, boys, and lattes'. I walk around wholly aware of people's shady sides. My wedding dream focuses on a secret savings account ready for the divorce, and a solid pre-nup. The idea of long-term commitment frightens me almost as much as I secretly would like to enjoy it. And hearing "I love you" has on previous occassions been greeted with stuttering, "oh...", and my favourite... "Thanks... ehrm...". Me? A bitch? Never *gasps*
Yet, then and again you bump into someone. And they get you all jittery. Every logical sense (as well as your loving caring friends... and all other sane ppl) is telling you to run far and fast, but your heart beats faster and you smile like a fourteen year old school girl with a crush. You flirt, you get flirted with, there are promises, chocolates, cuddles and... truth. Like, he loves you, but loves that bottle as well. Like, on occassion the passion streak turns into violently jelaous temperament. Or, "I... have a girlfriend..." a month or something in.
That is when you pick yourself up, ask what the heck you've been thinking, and realize it still hurts because heaven forbid it you liked the guy. For once. And of course he was a bad boy. Because all those nice boys with manners and safe sides, they don't stir that wild butterfly in the pit of your stomach. Nope... That's the boy with the hidden tattoo, the one who almost went to prison, or the one who just checked out of rehab... or why not the one who stole magazines from seven eleven. If you have a type, you have a type... Even if you really just secretly want a nice fluffy comedian, who will make you cry and laugh and hold you tight whenever you need it (without having been asked). The best friend that loves and is loved...
But for now... Paperwork, rents, laundry, garbadge disposal days (the schedule is on the door), grocery shopping, and the nagging voice that tells you to eat fruit... Oh, and savings accounts. And most importantly, friends and family. Because they're truly un-conditional.
<3 (P.S. Sorry abt the long posts... guess it makes up for the sporadic-ness... and FYI Cam is right about Veronica Mars AND proper pencil sharpeners... and to all the nice boys & girls out there who dare take a chance. You are all very admirable, you really are. Wouldn't want to end this on a gloomy note eh...)
xo Peaches
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment