Not really sure how to feel about it.
Around and around and around we go.
Significantly, you're the broken one. But I need saving.
Up till now, I thought I had avoided, ignored and discarded the idea of a quarter-life crisis. But here I am back in my hometown, back in my room that has seen nights of the light left on, cupboards that were emptied during temper tantrums, mirrors that have cringed from teenage outfit choices, doors that I've snuck out of and recklessly back in through. I'm not going to lie, it's a defeat.
It's not the worst kind though. I could be a lot worse off in many ways. This is a constant thing I have to remind my family. The reply to "Roxanne, who were you talking to?" is not "My crack cocaine supplier, mom".
These are my options; a one way ticket to the coast of Mexico, opening a salad bar and drinking tequila. OR getting through this day to day, ending the days with tequila. OR changing the focus up a bit, with or without tequila. Distraction is a famed path of resistance to negativity. The distractions don't necessarily have to be thought of as the easy way out. I hardly think waking up before sunrise to sit on a stationary bicycle is desirably easy nor is making sense of the piece of paper I've been chasing for years intriguingly easy.
Distractions now, clarity in time.
All great changes are preceded by chaos.
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