Sleepless in Melbourne
It’s currently almost 1am on Monday morning and I’m lying in bed with my mind racing with no particular thoughts in general, it just kind of feels like there’s a goddamn hamster wheel in my brain and a little hammie on speed is spinning round and round and round and round and you get my drift…
It’s pitch black except for the light shining out from the screen of my little laptop (thanks to **** for lending me this beautiful little Macbook for the next few months, I’m sure gonna miss it when it’s gone!), and I’m listening to an old Sparklehorse album and feeling just a little bit lost. Is there such a thing as a pre-life crisis? God knows I’m not old enough to be going through a mid-life one, in which case a late-life crisis is not possible yet. Hell, maybe I’m just tired and need to go to sleep!!
What’s the point of these ramblings? Ahh, damned if I know!
(Geeze, I’m a blasphemous little critter, ain’t I?)
I guess that at this time of night, when the noise and hustle-bustle of life has stopped for a few hours so that all the little fieldmice can sleep sweetly and dream of things to come, my mind tends to float adrift, not unlike Odysseus after the Trojan war. The only difference being that it only happens for a few hours - were my mind to go on hiatus for 20 years, I think that could legally be defined as being comatose.
Goddamn, I’m only in my mid-20s, I should be out there living life - taking it by the neck and shaking it about to show it who the boss is, and yet all I can really do is worry. What do I worry about? Well, most of those tiny questions are so stupid/narcissistic/useless that I even manage to bore myself with them, so there’s no way I’m airing them on here (that would almost be like writing down the most inane comment that you’ve ever made for posterity). Even now, after reading over this post, the useless and idiocy of these ramblings has my finger itching to delete it all, and yet I can’t. Perhaps that masochistic side of me wants the world to know that I’m really just a little batshit crazy?
I worry that I’ll never be able to finish this degree.
I worry that my ma, who’s body is already starting to slow down and break, won’t be around to see my grandchildren.
I worry that I’ll never have the chance to give her grandkids.
I worry that I’ll be stuck in a dead-end desk monkey job till the day I retire.
I worry that the only travel I’ll do will be after I’ve died and my cremated remains are dumped into the ocean.
I worry that my eyebrows won’t grow back after my habit of overplucking them for the past 8 years.
I worry that this great closeness between me and my siblings will one day end and we’ll grow apart.
I worry that my ovaries won’t get any better and that having kids won’t be an option for me.
I worry that all my tattoos will look weird and saggy when I get older.
I worry that I worry too much.
Isn’t it amazing how much time and energy is spent dwelling on pointless worries like that? Goddamn, I need a cigarette.
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