I Can’t Pick a Fig I Want the Whole Tree

I turn 23 in 12 days.

The truth is, I am still trying to make sense of my 20’s. Part of me still feels 19, the other, 25. This started to happen as I got older.

I think a lot about the things that others think of me. I think about parallel universes and what life could have been.

I think about the future.

Then, I think about nothing at all. My head is still loud though.

It is funny how hard truths and meaningless junk can sit next to each other as friends. They coexist in this unsettling harmony. It is chaotic; it is kind of beautiful.

This is the mind of a 20-something year old.

I just spent $5 on another takeaway coffee, and I really don’t care.

Somehow, I’m in a constant battle with protecting my peace and spending three days at a bush doof dancing to techno music.

Falling off the grid.

Just let me hibernate.

I lost my AirPods, again. I lost my card, again.

My wallet.

My phone from a moving car, found on the side of a highway three hours later. Intact.

Sitting at the nail salon, the hairdresser, any stupid beauty appointment projectile vomited as “girl therapy” is boring.

I love being alone, until I feel lonely.

I like expensive things.

Why do I overshare, or share nothing at all?

I booked a flight to Europe with $3,000 in my bank account – an in-control decision, an out of control time.

I should go camping more; book that pottery class. Buy a sewing machine, a road bike, DJ decks. 

I need to buy travel insurance.

I feel everything so deeply. I still don’t know if this allows me to see more of the world or less of it.

There are 15 unopened messages I need to respond to. Why is this so hard?

Four years; three different university courses; no degree. Yet. The system sucks.

The hardest relationship to end is the one with my phone.

Things that were once scary are now easy.

What was once easy is now a Monster.

“What are your hobbies?” is the most overwhelming question.

Disappointing people feels easier.

I am a burden.

Life is fucking magical.

Making friends is hard; losing friends is predictable.

Constantly catastrophising; never decisive; overthinking everything. My golden ratio.

I can’t pick a fig.

I want the whole tree.