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.

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About wewerethesame

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

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