I have written a dozen posts that are saved to drafts where the first sentence always began with “So” and the ended with “right?”, but they all seem too obvious or a little too weird or too similar. Here is me starting from scratch.
The truth is I am terrified. That came out of nowhere. But it is still true. Here I am. Scared. I’ve been scared for a while though, so I’m getting used to it in a strange way. It feels like getting a tattoo and feeling the pain at first, but then becoming used to it despite the fact that it still hurts.
Anyway, I am scared. I stood at the tallest point in the city yesterday and as I looked down at the world beneath my feet and I knew I was not ready. My writing isn’t getting any better. My social skills are retarded. My memory fails me at every turn. My laziness is all consuming. I spend too much money I don’t yet have. I eat when I am not hungry. I spend too much time doing nothing. I never finish anything that I have spent so long beginning. I never make the effort to see my friends. My tastes for music and books are collapsing in front of my eyes.
And everything seems to be ending so very quickly. My winter is ending. My social life is ending. My lust for blogging is ending. Everything is ending. At at the same time so much is beginning and I am scared because I am not up for this future. I am not ready for economical and social turmoil. Neither am I ready for oil wars and mass exodus, climate change and all that kind. The world is ending and I am scared because it is ending at the worst possible time. If the economy collapses I’ll never sell a deal. If energy wars begin I’m going to be crushed under greedy men’s feet. If the world ends then I’m not going to get the reward that school and family and television have promised me.
This is the most exciting time to be alive ever, and it’s only beginning and I am fucking terrified.
Fuck. This. Shit.
This now adorns a wall.
.
The truth is I am terrified. That came out of nowhere. But it is still true. Here I am. Scared. I’ve been scared for a while though, so I’m getting used to it in a strange way. It feels like getting a tattoo and feeling the pain at first, but then becoming used to it despite the fact that it still hurts.
Anyway, I am scared. I stood at the tallest point in the city yesterday and as I looked down at the world beneath my feet and I knew I was not ready. My writing isn’t getting any better. My social skills are retarded. My memory fails me at every turn. My laziness is all consuming. I spend too much money I don’t yet have. I eat when I am not hungry. I spend too much time doing nothing. I never finish anything that I have spent so long beginning. I never make the effort to see my friends. My tastes for music and books are collapsing in front of my eyes.
And everything seems to be ending so very quickly. My winter is ending. My social life is ending. My lust for blogging is ending. Everything is ending. At at the same time so much is beginning and I am scared because I am not up for this future. I am not ready for economical and social turmoil. Neither am I ready for oil wars and mass exodus, climate change and all that kind. The world is ending and I am scared because it is ending at the worst possible time. If the economy collapses I’ll never sell a deal. If energy wars begin I’m going to be crushed under greedy men’s feet. If the world ends then I’m not going to get the reward that school and family and television have promised me.
This is the most exciting time to be alive ever, and it’s only beginning and I am fucking terrified.
Fuck. This. Shit.
This now adorns a wall.
.
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