I have spent the last 2 waking hours chanting this. I have gone to the toilet twice, finished a bottle of water, had some cola. The odd thing is that it is not a hangover. I did drink last night, it could’ve been a lot (by some measures). I even had some bad chicken which might explain the trips to the toilet. My head hurts for a completely different reason. I know. I can feel it.
In an attempt to evaluate this situation, I go through every detail of my life. I look great. Outside of the shabbiness of my sales job – I look great. I am fit and I can see growing older is going to do very well with me. This fact could be contested by people who think “your skin makes you seem so much older. The air here is quite polluted.” But I don’t have unreasonable expectations. I am not from Europe.
As a person I believe I have attained a full personality. That thing you fight so hard for as a teenager, putting yourself through the misery of not being able to become who you are; going through the anguish of not being able to become who others can be. I have gotten over it. I could recognize myself from miles away. That kind of feeling is so rewarding and rare.
I am a well earning youth, who has been able to tear herself a part of this world, make it exclusive and relish in its freedom. Every person knows what that kind of security can mean. Adulthood becomes a beautiful thing. And when I look back to a lot of disturbed nights, I recall wanting this exact thing. And now I have it. Typing away whatever comes to my mind, making others read it if I like. No thank you. I appreciate this freedom more than anything. Please give me some more.
And love has been treating me so well that I will not make a mistake of writing about it.
So am I happy? I am not sure. I am scared that I have no more life goals. I am scared that I don’t know what comes next and I have no way of working towards it. I don’t like my job because this is not what I was meant to do. An inner conflict keeps telling me that’s not true, but I haven’t resolved that. I don’t have the time. Or the courage.
To sum it up, my head still hurts. And as I have vomited these thoughts on a screen I have realized, it makes no sense why it hurts. But I have also realised, it doesn’t have to. Tragedy, strife, difficulties have brought me here and no way, no fucking way, would I give up being here. So I will leave sense making to Oprah. I will just lie in bed and complain about my headache until it goes away.