In the foggy realm between teenager-com and adulthood(I find that my life contains a lot of “foggy realms”), it is hard to decipher where, exactly, I belong. No longer is it really appropriate for me, a job-having university-going bill-paying nineteen-year-old to be hanging out with actual teenagers. However, I can’t exactly blend with adults either. In this twilight zone where I can no longer relate to being grounded or getting yelled at for having a hickey, nor can I get into a club or buy a beer it seems like there is a relatively small margin of people that I can hang out with. In a city as small as the one I am blessed to call home, the people my age are either hung up on partying, or have spread their wings to some other campus and are starting their fledgling lives away from home. I do not belong to either group.
I waste my time away at work by dreaming about the future. Then the future scares me, so I let my mind recede into the past, never really losing hold of that gut-churning fear of what is to come. I feel as though I will clutch tightly to a dream for a minute before letting it go and resigning myself to accepting my fate which is imminent. What might that be? I haven’t the foggiest, to be honest. All of my aspirations seem to fade to smoke with the slightest provocation. Having no real direction is a product of being afraid of making the wrong choice. I feel surrounded by options, and yet when I talk about them, everyone either pushes me in their own direction, or shoots them down. Considering how close-knit my family is, sometimes it is hard to have my own thoughts. Especially because I feel as though I have been raised to listen to the adults in my life, constantly minding their opinions rather than my own. I have the desire to do something for myself for once, make the decision for myself and not allow it to be questioned, not even by myself. Perhaps that’s why all of my ideas seem crazy, each one more outlandish than the rest. Perhaps that is my quiet way of striving to think my own thoughts.