A Bucket Full of Me

I miss the past palpably; when I think too hard about my teenage years I get this horrendous ACHE in my rib cage. I thought I was messed up then (and oh my god I was) but getting out of my mum and dad’s house didn’t magically fix all of my neuroses.

Therapy helped massively… but then you’re out in the cold when it’s all said and done. And life just gets harder the older you get. Change is scary. People move away; emotionally, socially, physically. God, no matter how you want to claw and cling, the only thing you end up with are crescents cut into your palms.

You feel lonely. And scared of the future. But you’re 28 and soon you’ll be in the golden years that have been promised since you were 16 and hating everything and feeling like a pile of ash in this charred and unsalvageable hearth. The hearth just gets filthier year on year. The ash slowly diminishing, and you’re less here.

Ha.

Maybe one day I’ll post something uplifting here because I have life all figured out. I’ll be the top of my game, master of fate and captain of my soul. I’ll cut through the metaphors like the best simile you can imagine.

Until then; here’s to 2022.