And by “the void,” I mean the couch in the living room of my parents’ house (which is also my only house, because I live here indefinitely now).
It’s the classic twenty-something-year-old predicament: I don’t know what I’m doing. I truly haven’t since May. I’d be lying if I told you that graduating from college brought me a sweeping sense of relief or fulfillment— no more 15-paged essays to write, presentations to give, textbooks to (not really) read— because I’ve been more overwhelmed these past few months than I ever was during undergrad. I’ve simply been bouncing from one distraction to the next, growing more and more antsy, suffering from self-induced FOMO (thanks social media!), and wishing I’d prepared for this season of change. I’m used to free wheeling it. But man, if only I had considered exactly how poorly I respond to change, then I could’ve at least braced myself for the ride.
Sometimes it’s bearable. I wake up, coordinate a fresh outfit, make breakfast, give Luigi tummy rubs, and log in to my 9-5 work-from-home job without complaint. Other times, I’m greeted with a too-familiar sense of dread that permeates everything I see. Same soup, just reheated. Same me, just… worse? Jaded? Uninspired? Am I a husk of a girl who peaked at nineteen and never will again?