The Guidelines of Our Lives
In all these years I've been living
I thought I had to live through a given set of rules
That I didn't realize were a given tanglement of guidelines
I could choose not to follow.
Everywhere I'd look, I'd see the same story
Of what I thought was going to be the story of my life
As much as it was theirs.
Get my first boyfriend in highschool,
My first heartbreak soon after,
But don't worry, because at uni you'll find one much better!
Besides, after a little while, you'll leave your education with a smile
In exchange for a well-paying job.
A nine-to-five which, of course, will be the dream of your life.
Next to your other dreams of getting married and having babies
Who'll grow up in a house of your own
Till they fly out and leave you all alone
In a house that is too big for just you and your other half.
And let's not forget about that job,
Which will work you till you drop
Into retirement,
Eventually.
If I actually live to see
The moment I'll finally be supposedly free
To do what I actually want.
As long as my body allows it.
As long as there's still a world I can live in.
I've been thinking about my future more and more.
I've been starting to question if this
Is actually what I've been looking forward to.
Because it has come to my attention
That my intention for the life I want to live
Is not one that exactly fits within these guidelines I've been given.
I've actually failed some of them already.
My first boyfriend in highschool,
Or maybe I'll get one at uni?
Don't make me laugh.
In all my years of living, I've never even been given my first kiss,
Much less found a boy with whom I'll want to share my life.
And although it took me some time,
I'm finally fine with the possibility of staying single
For the most part
Or even all of my life.
Because I'm happy with the life that I'm living now.
But of course, this won't be forever.
Soon I'll have to find a job.
But it kinda already feels like I'll flop,
Because I still don't feel ready
To leave behind the life that I've known till now.
Full of studying for tests and
More free time than I'll ever know.
And to trade that all for years and years
For jobs I might not actually enjoy
Or be underpaid for.
Then to come home, after that straining nine-to-five has ended,
To slave away by taking care of the children sounds like such a pain.
When will I have time to care for myself,
When at the end of the day
I will have no care left after spending it all
On my job, my partner, my kids, and the chores.
I'd much rather come home to an empty apartment.
Alright, there might be place for a cat,
Or 2,
Or more.
In this economy, they'll be the only babies I know I can support.
Growing up, media has always painted old, single, cat ladies
As the weirdest people you'll ever meet.
But I have come to see these ladies as the kind of weird
I might desire to be.
And that going outside the social guidelines on
How to life your life
Can actually be a good deed.