By 23, I thought I’d have the basics figured out. But I have no fucking clue about anything.

What do I want, realistically? Happiness. Vague, that’s not an answer. What do I want for my life? All I’ve ever had are ideas that I naively called plans. It’s not a plan to envision the far-off future that you want and not do a thing to get yourself there. It’s a fucking dream. A million dreams I wished for instead of living and trying for.

I can’t tell you what I want because I have no fucking clue. I don’t know what’s going to make me happy in a year, in five or ten. I change so much, so how can I possibly make plans for my life? How can I commit to something I’m not positive I’ll want tomorrow?

I’m depressed. I take pills for depression. I have physical health problems. I take pills for physical health problems. Those pills can cause depression. There’s no way out. There’s just no fix for me.


About wewerethesame

Pagan. Writer. Owner of cats. View all posts by wewerethesame

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