November

So a couple of years back a friend of mine was completely freaking out about turning 25 and I could not understand what all the drama was about. Being a naive 21 year old I could not imagine why having a great big birthday party would be scary.

"Its like I am going to reach half my life" he said trying to explain the situation to me.

It didn't work.
l I still didn't get it.

That is till last November when I turned 23.
The moment I turned 23 was awful. I didn't physically feel any different and nothing monumental happened.
Everything stayed exactly the same. And that was the problem. My life isn't going anywhere important
I turn on the news and they have 23 year old boy saves a friends life, 21 girl start a foundation blah blah blah and not just strangers I don't know, my own friends are going places. Getting cool jobs, getting married, traveling. fulfilling their dreams.

But not me. This November I am going to be turning 24 and I still haven't had the guts to do something!!! Anything!!!

Its not as easy to look at life as it was when i was younger but complaining about it has taken me absolutely no where.

I feel that all humans have is memory:  to live through for generation from accomplishing something amazing is probably the greatest honor of all.

So that's what this is all about finding that one special thing that will set me apart and help me be remembered when i die.


To be honest I don't know what or how yet. But I have decided to do something worth immortalizing before I turn 25 so that means I have 1yr and 1 month...

I Broke My Ipod Today

I broke my Ipod today. It's screen got smashed in to a million tiny little crystals with no shape. In to million pieces that make no sense and don't work anymore. I saw my life reflected on those little crystals. My sad pathetic existence.

Once my life held promise, I had a future, hopes, dreams, plans. But little by little all those illusions have slowly died, I've stopped living in a world of bliss delusion and have awaken to see reality. The fucking world which I've managed to create for myself by making every wrong decision, every mistake there is I've made it. Believing I could ever be an author when I don't even have the guts to send anything is incomprehensible. How I believed in true love despite the evidence of its nonexistence is just stupidity. Or maybe its not stupid believing in true love, what's truly idiotic is believing I  would ever find it. I hate every second of my life and I don't know how to fix it.

The Ipod got smashed in to a millions bits and it was a metaphor for my life. No real job (Working for mommy does not count). No success on any interview, I used to believe after college people would beg me for work, how childish of me to assume such a thing. Just like that Ipod I am useless now. No job, no money nothing.

Most of my friends have jobs, good paying, fun jobs. Jobs that include vacations, bonuses, experience. Me? I am stuck working a 50 hour job and getting payed for 30. Working in a job that doesn't inspire me. A job I truly detest in a job that is my family's lively hood a job I am suppose to love and all I do is hate. I am stuck in a job that feels wrong in every possible way.

Most of my friends decided to further their education, I made a mistake giving up that dream, I thought I didn't need it. Maybe I should have continued maybe that was the key out of this dump that is my life. But I am not good at school. I used to believe I was but I am not. I am never going to write the next American novel, I am not good at anything. I am a mediocre being. I do nothing special and I never will.  I am a smashed Ipod, million little pieces. hundreds of tiny crystals make me a blurr.

I thought about deleting this blog, whats the point of writing my patheticness in it. But with out this outlet I don't know what I'd do.
I can't exsacly tell my family how I feel, it be sick and twisted to torture them like that. I can't tell my friends because I couldn't stand the pity stares. So who else can I confide in if not a bunch of strangers on the Internet. 

In Love

Some one asked me a few nights back if I'd ever been inlove.

The question made me all kinds of uncommfortable.
My first reaction wanted to scream that obviously I'd been in love before.
But then a small voice in the back of my head whispered "have you?"

I began trying to define what being in love would entail. I'd had a boyfriend who sent flowers, reminded me of how pretty I was and hugged and kissed me as often as we could. Was that love?