Quarterlife crisis

I'm 21 years old, and I'm scared shitless of growing up, every single day.

I guess at this point I'm already considered a "grown up", and expected to act as such. That's the problematic part. I'm supposed to be getting my life together, getting my SHIT together, and tackle real life problems now. Without the help of others.

Because frankly my dear, no one gives a damn.

No one gives a damn that my toilet overflows at 3 in the morning, or that my bills are due, or I'm out of groceries, that I need to MAKE MONEY APPEAR SOMEHOW to buy things that'll ultimately possibly maybe get me a job. That I have to figure important things out. That I have to wake up every single day and not feel like throwing up at the mere thought of life ahead.

I'm frustrated that I'm going through what can only be described as a "quarter life crisis" and that everyone else seems to be coping with it much better than I am. Either that, or they're REALLY good at hiding their struggle. I'm frustrated that no one talks about how hard it is to be in your early twenties, and that no one shares their struggle. Everyone's just expected to deal with it on their own, secretly. Shame on you if you have a breakdown in the cleaning products section of the grocery store. Even old ladies will look at you with judgment and pity in their eyes, but they won't help you.

Because you're not a little kid anymore, and you have nobody's sympathy.

Every day I think, right, today will be the day I finally start using a goddamn nail clipper instead of ripping off my nails... and that'll be the day I start getting my life together. I will buy organic fucking strawberries. I will start being an adult. I will read the newspaper every day, learn how to drive, get a job. Do adult things. With every passing day, my friends around me get less and less clueless. They score great internships. They get jobs.

That's when my self-pity party of one starts, and I'm up at 3 a.m. eating a pizza, watching an entire season of Breaking Bad, with no direction in life.

I think, I COULD'VE applied for that internship myself. I have the same academic credentials. I could've gotten that gig. I could've lied my ass off at the job interview...make it look like I have it all figured out. But what comes after getting the job? The motivation to wake up every day and deliver. That's the problem.

I was so sure of what I wanted out of life when I was younger. I don't know what happened to that girl, but she was forced to grow up. I got a lot more cynical and realistic somewhere along the way. Realized that I can't be anything that I want, that the world isn't all that great, that I can't change the world, that getting what I want isn't as simple as reaching out and grabbing it. That depression is this heavy blanket of laziness covering you, that you are too weak to lift it.