Vulnerable Shift

Being an adult is not as easy as I thought. When I was just a kid, I imagined that my future would be full of freedom. I would be financially independent, travel wherever I wanted, have no curfews, meet more people, etc. Adult life in my head at the time would be fun and full of excitement. But then I realized I had too many dreams, and it’s just not so nice. The reality says that my adulthood is just about tears, fears, worries, awkward movements, fake smiles, stresses, etc. Wonderful future? That shit will never happen.

Five months ago, I decided to quit my job. Ending up unemployed was not the result I predicted. I think I was too arrogant at the time. I should have thought 1000 times before jumping into uncertainty. I was relying too much on myself. I am overconfident that I could get a new job as soon as I can. Like most other adults, I try to look for the best opportunities I can, but it just gives me a stupid look and a loser label on my forehead. Then I ran out of money basically. Eventually, I am just being a full-time jobless and missed the chance to get my new full-time job. It sounds like irony. I know.

Being an adult is not an option, but a necessity. Seeing the girls in my closest circle who are preparing for their wedding, makes me afraid of being left behind. Even until now I’m still trying to love myself. I feel powerless to find love like them. I’m not ready to be in a relationship yet. I’m still traumatized by my past with the man I used to love. Such a cliché pain, right?

Whatever life throws me, it seems like I’m the only one going slow. Sometimes I even lose my way. I don’t know where to go. More responsibilities make me reluctant to lean on other people’s shoulders. Of course, it’s not only me who has had problems in this life, but somebody must also have had one in common. So, I don’t want to bother. I’ll walk it alone by myself.

I used to be a high-motivated girl, ready to chase any possibilities for being a writer. I learned literature for 3,5 years and thought that I was good enough for telling the world I could be the new one J.K. Rowling. I always believed that there was any kind of writing career on the table. I could choose one which was suitable enough for me. I felt like I was ready for a whole world of adventure, and a whole world of possibilities that were far, far more glamorous than my grey existence. Then, I failed.

Now, I am on my new shifting from a naive kiddo, to be an adult I’m still trying to look up. Painstakingly I want to live my life as not merely a legal adult but a grown up. I want to finish all this vulnerable shift I can’t handle.