i just reheated my coffee for the third time, only to set it down and pick up my computer, again.
i feel restless. checking on the baby (not mine, babysitting) almost obsessively, loads of laundry, thank you cards written addressed and stamped, place carefully in a metal box, failing system to hurry them here and there and here again, emails sent off, and meetings scheduled. still though, i’m not all here. dreaming about a job i might not want once it’s here, a husband, children (funny cuz, honestly, i don’t really want those either), a phd, an apartment with red walls and a painted coffee table. i know that i should put the computer down and sit with the coffee cup in one hand, and my Bible in the other, but… but. but. aye. but, i want to live in london when i’m old. i want to drink tea from mismatched cups in a little cottage. i want to write books with the sound of my fingers dancing across the keyboards.what’s changed? and i know i will. i know that’s where i’ll end up. and i know i’ll be happy. so why do i already feel lonely? sad for that future me? like, she gets what she wants, but is it what she wants? i’m only 25 and i feel like i’m making a lifetime’s worth of decisions in the next 6 months.
such great power placed in the hands of fools. it’s not a lie, you know, that saying? youth IS wasted on the young.