It’s not quite August yet, but doesn’t it feel like it might as well be?
The year goes by so quickly now, but I guess I just wasn’t aware of it as much when I was a kid. March and May seem as distantly close in my memory as the meals I ate last week. And this cycle is the most perpetual one in life. It is life, when you think about it. Without our cycle around the Sun we would not exist. And yet it’s that same cycle which people, or at least me, learn to loathe as they age.
I am not old, just turned 22. That’s still a weird number to write out. People around me have started speaking in decades, half decades. Kids are on everyone’s brain, either in a good way or bad. We’ve left our homes to go to University, done all the crazy stuff in school we were supposed to. We’ve learned a skill or two which makes us marketable in the real world. We’ve had dates, boyfriends and girlfriends. Some have met their spouse, others have met themself. But we’ve all done these things at 22. And now we’re to move back to the city. To our homes where ever they are, and do what?
Everyone thinks of their purpose, but what has life told us that is? How many acceptable years of self-discovery are permissble? Especially when many people in the world are being traumatized by some form of tyrannical leader. And then there are the Billionaires who are supposed to be the backbone of the people. They are not Them so these people (often men) of utterly disgusting wealth must be Us(?).
It makes me just want to go to a cottage and drink beer because I’m lucky enough to be able to. I don’t know what my purpose is, I can write, I can think, but I am still tongue-tied and dumb. I want to forge a path, but it’s like discovering that each trail leads to some Walmart parking lot that was just hidden by a row of trees long enough to lull you into happiness. We’ve come so far, and yet we are constantly riddled with the same issues as before. At least we acknowledge our flaws, at least we have a society that’s a little less awful than it once was. But mental health, disease, time, all erode that which we’ve constructed to separate ourselves from each other. I don’t know when we’ll stop caring so much. Maybe I should just figure out my purpose and let others do the same. That would help don’t you think?