Existential Crisis: I'm Having One

It struck me the other day (like a ton of shit house bricks) that I am malcontent.

Am I having a midlife crisis? A psychotic break? I don't know. What I do know is I have developed - or have likely always had - a fear of being ordinary.

Now I can't go out and buy a Maserati (like, ever) or jump out of a plane or go deep sea diving off the coast of Dahab (within the foreseeable future). Nor can I garner a mistress (well.. wait.) But I can change what I can reach and I can do what I've always thought of doing, or even whatever I gave a split second thought to doing. And why not? Because fuck you all. That's why. Who cares what anyone else thinks? So fuck you and your preconceived notions of who I should be.

I realized I barely recognize myself.

It's not the lines on my face (that I don't have. Truth, bitches.) or the weight I've put on my frame (which I do have). It's not anything physical that I can put a finger on. It's a feeling that I'm missing out on life, that it's moving too fast and I'm so far behind. It's feeling like I want something different but don't know how to go about getting it, or even what it is I want.

But I do know. At least in part. I want to be who I used to be. So welcome me back.

On a side note, I used to work as a dietary aid when I was in my early 20s at a nursing home. I was happier then. I don't know exactly why nor does it particularly matter. What's mildly (and irrelevantly) ironic is that I got my nose pierced while I worked there. I'm currently a night shift nurse at the same home. And I did a thing.

Who doesn't love Snapchat?

That's for another post.

Also ironic (possibly relevant) is I had never heard Jekyll and Hyde (Five Finger Death Punch) and it just came on as I'm posting this. Thank you, Spotify.

There's just so much goddamned weight on my shoulders
All I'm trying to do is live my motherfucking life
Supposed to be happy, but I'm only getting colder
Wear a smile on my face, but there's a demon inside

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