that is drool from my mouth

it takes me a while to write on here because i always am thinking that i want any reader to truly enjoy what they're reading while avoiding their jobs or browsing while watching tv. In my head, I envision nothing but people laughing and praising my whit, then i have to admit to myself that no one reads this and i can write what i want because my roommate will read anything.

so here is my babble.

I am sick of feeling lost. My defeatist melodrama is even starting to bug me. But I can't shake it. I don't have a career to define myself in. I don't even know what to pursue. People never seem to be able to capture the true chaos that is your twenties. No one wants to spoil the joy of working hard and not getting paid enough. To ruin the excitement of opening not just your first but your tenth or eleventh credit card bill that portrays figures of numbers that you wish your hourly wage was. Destroying the feeling that even though you are working, you feel like a ghost to your younger self, that you did sell your soul for the sake of your career. Yuppie brat.

I think one of the most irritating things about it is having to constantly pretend to be a grown up. Sure legally I can vote, buy porn, cigarettes, beer, own a home... blah blah... but I still call my mom when any type of decision needs to be made. You are responsible without feeling accomplished. Although "you" bought your couch, it was your parents who paid your rent for the next two months because of it. Despite "you" deciding to date someone, you still wonder why anyone would want to be with you or how to know if it'll work out. The perks of being fake.

As you see these things haunt me. Just like jelly beans.

I guess the truth is, I am growing up. But I keep protesting and stating what really sucks about it, because that is my promise to my fan. (by fan I me the one above me since its the one having to listen to all kinds of rants. got you linguistics style.) I know there is joy in this process however. For instance, I was asked to move in with my boyfriend. Something I've wanted to do since knowing what boyfriends were. I mean how awesome is it to be able to live with one of your best friends you get to make out with. (leah, sorry we never made out. i like dudes.) But here I am. Being a grown up. Moving in like a big kid, in my big kid pants, with my big kid boyfriend, and yet all I can think about is all the awful things that can come of it. Don't get me wrong I love that darn kid, and I am so excited to share my bathroom mirror with him (the time split being 70-30) Its just the grown part of me that is being scared. With all those years of voting-ish, but definitely buying porn and beer I did grow and learn things. Those things left scars and those scars leave the sweet taste of bitter. And despite all excitement, fear arises and portrays in the form pure anxiety. And then the child part comes back and says that the grown up fear is that if we don't move soon he'll never end up doing it. Sigh.

Look kid and adult in brain, I don't like either of you and you guys definitely don't like me but we all have to get along somehow.