I’m not a rockstar. I consider myself to have three accomplishments— 1. I’ve traveled outside the United States, 2. I paid my way through college thanks to graduating a year early in high school and receiving a full ride, 3. I finally left Arizona.
I suppose that’s okay. I’m an individual trying to live her life to the best of her ability. I have my positives and negatives. I have awesome friends, granted they live across the country. I’m blessed. I’m spoiled. I get to sleep in on week days— one of the perks to those of us who are jobless. The feeling crappy about yourself and not being independent part, on the other hand, sucks.
I don’t go to glamourous parties. I don’t have a killer job. I’m not exactly a world traveler. (I’m a wannabe in that department.) I don’t have an awesome apartment in some rad city like New York. I live in a small town where the biggest thing is Walmart. The only thing getting me through my day is the promise that this too shall pass, when most days I feel like bunching my knees to my chest, closing my eyes and continuing to fear an unlived life.
Yet somehow I’m convinced it will all be okay.