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There is it. It’s the center of our twenties. It’s just six days away. When did I get here? Where did all the fun go? Why do I keep reminiscing about my teen years? Oh God, I’m dying.
I am on the verge of turning 25, and I have very little to show for it. I feel panicked, nauseated, and depressed. My hypochondria has set in and I know I am definitely, without a doubt, suffering from a quarterlife crisis. Maybe I should call it my “I’ve been out of college for three years now and I still don’t have a real job” crisis. I think the latter is an extension of the former. How about that? Two for one!
Here’s how I know I’m suffering from a quarterlife crisis.
1. I miss high school and I don’t know why. I live in the same town where I went to high school. I hang out with the same people who went to high school with me. I go to the same diner for coffee. I frequent the same bar. What’s there to miss?
2. Routine. I do the exact same thing every day, and I see the exact same people every day. It’s depressing. I know I have to get out of here and away from these people, but I feel landlocked.
3. I’m bored and indecisive. I want to do something but I don’t know what. I’ve contemplated going to graduate school, traveling abroad, or joining a cult. I thought about getting knocked up but quickly decided against it once I remembered I hate kids.
4. My friends–yes, the ones from high school–are more accomplished than I am. One got out of this damn town, one has a real “big girl” job, one just had a baby, and the other works at a job she loves. Where am I? Hyperventilating in the corner.
5. Career. I’ve realized I am career-oriented and have no career. Therefore my life sucks. It’s as simple as that.
6. Hobbies. I have none. Unless daydreaming counts–then I am the master of my craft. I read, write, throw color on a canvas, and sleep. Who doesn’t?
7. Aspirations. I have no goals because I’m too broke to dream big. Even if I decided I wanted to go to graduate school, I wouldn’t be able to afford it. The only way I could travel would be via Craigslist, and for some reason, I value my (pathetic) life too much for that.
8. If I get one more rejection letter I might just kill myself. Not serious, of course. But maybe. I don’t know. I’m indecisive, remember?
There you have it. This is my quarterlife crisis at its best. What’s the remedy?
Therapy? Vacation? Religion? Meditation? Drugs? Medication? Self-medicating?
I choose booze. The answer is always in alcohol. Or maybe the answer is derived from alcohol. Perhaps it’s another one of those two-for-one deals. If I drink enough alcohol the problem will just go away, right?
Six days from now I’ll blow out my birthday candles, and if I’m lucky, I’ll be too drunk to give a fuck about turning 25.
Respond
This is not entertaining. Just public whining. I clicked the link because of the Duffnering picture, and this was greatly disappointing.
I agree that this just feels like whining. Try improving your life and write about that. Go travel (it can be done for cheap). Even if it’s a place you’ve never been in the town over. You say you hang out with the same people and go to the same places. You can easily change that. Do. Something. Stop. Bitching.
Weed, alcohol, and the beach. Isn’t that how adults cope?