waiting

I've been waiting for something spectacular to happen to me. I built up the post to end all posts, and I've been hesitant to write about something less than fantastic. But I've also been terrified. How can I put myself out there with something so wonderful? Will it be good enough?

That's the thing, though. I'm always waiting for something spectacular to happen. Waiting for my life to begin. And I'm terrified that it will. And that it won't. I'm content. Not particularly happy, granted, but content. I can sit in my room and let those four walls protect me from everything. I can dream, I can imagine, I can think. I can have nightmares, as I lately have been.

I've got less than a year, I figure. I need to know. At least guess. What am I going to be? Writing is the kind of field that's hard to get into. Some people get you, but most don't. Teaching would be okay, I suppose, but in today's world, where shootings happen regularly, would that be wise?


I've never even had a job. My life is my school. And I hate it. But that's what it is, because since before I can remember, I've been terrified to break away from what I know. The night before my birthday, I made a list. I won't repeat it here, because I've pretty much said everything. Just the fact that I am...me. And I want to be a different me.

Now, granted, some days I'll be brave. "You only have one life to live." "Live this day as if it were your last." And I'll ask someone out (and invariably get rejected). Or I'll apply for a job. But the disappointment comes, and I come back into my shell.

That's my goal. My life needs to change.