I'm very honest. I'm a little rude, and blunt. I will always ask more questions than are needed in most situations. And I've shared almost my entire life online. I'm not the most beautiful, or the most intelligent. I've got no stage talent but I've been known to bring some entertainment around in other ways.
I've ranted about my most painful breakup, the Eat, Pray, Love trip that finalized my bounce back, the lessons I've learned as a 26-year-old teenager, and my self-fulfilling prophecy. I've shared my stories not for the public, but for myself and for my future self to reflect. I want to document where I was and what my truth is at that moment. I can re-read and see change, see growth, and see the opportunities that have occurred when I wrote of hopelessness.
I'm sharing this now as a prelude to my current feelings. At first, I had opened my little Wix log-in and planned to write about how rock bottom I feel. I was going to write about how I left my job at the end of October, the multiple rounds of serious interviews that took a toll on me, how my anxiety has been slowly coming back in large waves, and how I'm going to be without a home by the end of the month. I had logged in to write about the disappearance of chivalry within the NYC dating pool. I was going to share my panic attack on the bus in the middle of the Bronx this afternoon. I was going to gab about how two of my five ex-boyfriends are now engaged to the girls they connected with directly after me.
And that last one doesn't really add to the weight on my shoulders but it's the cherry of humor atop the burning pile of trash I'm dealing with. However, is it really a pile of trash? Am I really at rock bottom? No. I'm not. I'm dramatic. But this is my life and if I want to be dramatic (while being realistic of my means) then you BETCHA that I will be.
As a way to create small moments of joy and peace, I've been playing Wolfman by none other than The Front Bottoms on repeat. It goes back to the five-year plan that I had always set out to create and achieve. It goes back to my self-fulfilling prophecy. It goes back to the skin of my teeth, and that nothing matters, the importance of nothing.
"Say what you have to say
Try not to cry
This is just not what you wanted, at this point in your life"
Well, Brian Sella, you're right that this is just not what I wanted and this point in my life. But, it's only February 6th, and at this time last year...I didn't even have a set plan to move back into the city, much less the keys to my home sweet Hell. I didn't have my wonderful new friends. I didn't have a multi-country international trip with my best friend. I didn't have a job within craft beer like I had been desperately trying to get back to.
I might not have it all. But I'm not at the rock bottom that I had opened my laptop to scream about.At the moment, I might not have hope for my dream home, my dream partner, or my perfect life with a pretty bow but that doesn't mean that a wish won't be granted before month's end. But by the skin of my teeth, and before March 1st, I'll have the keys to a wonderful Upper West Side dream. And fingers crossed that the rest falls into place naturally in the timeline that aligns with my "last second" universal timing.
