I keep imagining an alternate world where I’ve run away. I live in an undisclosed small town in some east coast state. I work in a bookshop or even a bakery. I have two or three close friends that I hang out with and talk to all the time. We genuinely care about each other and I feel secure about our friendship. I have a boyfriend whom I adore and we’re so comfortable and in love, and we get each other. We have the best conversations about all of the things we’re each interested in. We live together in a Victorian-style house with a balcony and a reading nook and a room filled with bookshelves and comfy seating. I have kids and no pets and never have to learn how to drive. I never talk to anyone from my past ever again. And I’m really, really happy.
But that’s not my reality. I split my time between a small college town on the east coast because I’m in college, and the small, yet filled city where I grew up. I have to constantly strive for perfect grades and work a government job during the summer so that my resume looks good. Everything I do is to look good academically, I have a million things that I’m supposed to be doing, none of which I actually want to do. I live with three other girls and I call them my friends so that I don’t seem like the pathetic loner I actually am. I don’t really like these girls and I always get the feeling that they couldn’t care less about my wellbeing. Hanging out with anyone takes so much out of me, I just can’t be bothered anymore. That’s probably not helping my mental state right now. I’ve already talked enough about being single in my other posts so I’m not diving into that here. I split my time between a townhouse, where I promptly restrict myself to my bedroom at all times to avoid my roommates and never feel comfortable in the common areas whilst also feeling constantly on edge in my bedroom, and my childhood home. We have no pets and I have no kids. It’s expected of me to learn to drive at some point, that point feels like it’s been getting closer. I try to avoid friends of the past but they still come up, I wish I could avoid the people in my life now. It’s not that I don’t love my family, but it is difficult to pretend like everything is ok and keep up the enthusiasm for school. They are also my near-constant reminder that I need to keep going to classes and getting good grades. It exhausts me just to think about it. I keep going, even though I’m not even sure if I care about any of this anymore. It’s mostly just a mindless routine at this point. And I’m really, really unhappy.
If I cared less about my family and social expectations, I would run away. I would try to find my dream life. No one would understand why I’d run and I can’t even explain it now because it’s so unlike the image of myself that I’ve created. So I can’t do that, I have to stay here and keep living my dreary reality. No matter how much it kills me. Am I too old to wish for Peter Pan to come in through my window and take me away?
