Everyone has a breaking point. A moment where you stop, throw your hands in the air, and say ‘fuck it’. Fuck. This.
I’ve spent my whole life being a push over. And the thing is I let it happen. I even let myself push myself over…if that makes any sense at all. I talked myself into believing I was so pathetic and useless that the mere idea of someone treating me well was absurd. Modern life loves to reinforce that.
See, being in your twenties sucks. Like, really sucks. But according to society we’re meant to be having the time of our lives. Which means there’s thousands of young people pretending to be ecstatic, who are all in fact miserable.
Is it avocado stones? Is it Apple Macs malfunctioning? Is it Twitter not having an edit button? No. It’s not having any security or future. That’ll put a downer on anyone’s day.
I have no bloody idea where I see myself in five years. I mean, I’d just like to have a job that doesn’t make me want to hurl myself from an upstairs window and offers me a glimpse at financial security. Am I reaching too high? I’ve been told I am. Apparently, I just need to pull up my socks and work harder, damn it!
Except…inflation has risen exponentially, student fees are enough to bury me in debt from the age of eighteen, and jobs are not hiring. I must have years of experience in every specific field, five degrees, and be willing to sacrifice a virgin to the next blood moon…
And there’s so much pressure now. I’m not just expected to have a good life anymore I’m expected to be goddamn perfect. The perfect career, the perfect house, the perfect partner, and then the perfect cherubs will spawn from my womb to a bright heavenly glow and orchestral music.
They say don’t worry about what everyone thinks, but how do I switch it all off? Like Fantine who dreamed a dream, I’m realising life isn’t that oyster of opportunity everyone told me it was. That it’ll never live up to all those expectations people gave me. That realisation is crushing.