(no subject)
In 16 days, I'm moving back home. Back home with my parents.
The things I went through during my marriage is not something I want to get into. It's in the past now.
I really want to say I feel like a failure. Break down and cry. Scream "Why, God!? WHY!?" But I don't because I know the answer. The problem is where do I go from here. I'm at a crossroads, and I'm being told I can choose to go down any road without obstruction. But I can't decide which way to go. So I just sit there in the middle of the intersection, watching my life slip away. I'm fully aware that it's doing so, and that I should get up and write a book, invent something, get a real job, find new friends, find someone else to love. Anything to make my life mean something to me.
I'm a young white male, educated with a degree. My life should be better than this. I have options. I have almost no debt. Soon to have almost no obligations to anyone.
It feels like everyone's figured out how to be an adult except me. I see others getting great jobs, raising kids, and I see none of that in me. I know I can be great at holding down a job. I could be a great dad. But how do I get there with no drive? I don't get passionate anymore. I find myself envious of people who say they love ice cream; they love Robert Downey Jr.; they love Harry Potter; they love their kids. I don't verbally say the word "love" more than once a month now. It's too strong a word. Yet it's thrown around arbitrarily, and I don't think it's a bad thing. I wish I could love chocolate or, shit, Kate Upton. But nothing registers as exciting. Video games and the internet even have lost their appeal. I don't care about money; just having enough to survive is fine. I don't care about a career. But I want these things too.
I wanted to cry over this, but I'm too worn. Too anxious. Too naive. I don't know what I'm getting myself into.
The things I went through during my marriage is not something I want to get into. It's in the past now.
I really want to say I feel like a failure. Break down and cry. Scream "Why, God!? WHY!?" But I don't because I know the answer. The problem is where do I go from here. I'm at a crossroads, and I'm being told I can choose to go down any road without obstruction. But I can't decide which way to go. So I just sit there in the middle of the intersection, watching my life slip away. I'm fully aware that it's doing so, and that I should get up and write a book, invent something, get a real job, find new friends, find someone else to love. Anything to make my life mean something to me.
I'm a young white male, educated with a degree. My life should be better than this. I have options. I have almost no debt. Soon to have almost no obligations to anyone.
It feels like everyone's figured out how to be an adult except me. I see others getting great jobs, raising kids, and I see none of that in me. I know I can be great at holding down a job. I could be a great dad. But how do I get there with no drive? I don't get passionate anymore. I find myself envious of people who say they love ice cream; they love Robert Downey Jr.; they love Harry Potter; they love their kids. I don't verbally say the word "love" more than once a month now. It's too strong a word. Yet it's thrown around arbitrarily, and I don't think it's a bad thing. I wish I could love chocolate or, shit, Kate Upton. But nothing registers as exciting. Video games and the internet even have lost their appeal. I don't care about money; just having enough to survive is fine. I don't care about a career. But I want these things too.
I wanted to cry over this, but I'm too worn. Too anxious. Too naive. I don't know what I'm getting myself into.