I just want to be hugged, so tightly I can’t think anymore. Because every thought that arises ads to a rising stress level to the point where I’m afraid of doing something irrational. Like screaming at the top of my lungs in public.
But that’s impossible, right?
I cannot possibly be that stressed out. Look at me, at us, we’re the gen-X’ers who had all the possibilities of becoming more than our parents, becoming happy, for we could choose. Yes, choose which education we wanted to do, at what age we wanted to have children, having the relationships we wanted. Having the laptoplifstyle, connected to our phones, but still being able to build and maintain offline relationships. We could have conquered the world! Like the grasshopper I sang all 40 years and then winter came.
So, as I walk across the station hall I should be happy, and if I’m not happy there is no one to blame but me. The adverbs whisper to me, you can be all this. It’s all there, every inch of so-called happiness framed in full colour pictures, reflecting back at me all that I’m not.
I’m stressed out. I feel like never gettin’ it right, being late for life. I messed up, did not become the dazzling self chosen career woman, or cute mom or both. I feel incompetent. But most of all, I should stop complaining. Right?
There is nothing there blocking my way to happiness. I should just follow my heart and believe, work hard, but be mindful and if I don’t succeed, it’s all on me. I had the brains, I had the time, I had the options. There was no war in my country, no bears at my door. I’m fallin’ apart for no justifiable reason. So basically, I’m totally fucked.