I’m sitting here and it’s 2 a.m. I really don’t know what to write and my brain is slowly stopping which isn’t very helpful. I guess the obvious topic is how this is the beginning of the end. I’m graduating in May, real life is fast approaching, the future, blah blah.
I don’t see much point in talking about where I’m going to be after the next few months, because let’s be honest, you and I both know the answer is probably sitting in my basement in Westchester re-watching the entire series of Buffy and eating a block of aged cheddar my mom bought from Costco.
Okay, maybe it won’t be that awesome, but really I have no fucking idea what I’m going to be doing after school so stop asking me.
I’m not really so scared of the future, I actually find it pretty exciting, but I’m trying this new thing where I live in the moment. Why waste time overthinking about my future life when I should and could be basking in these final few months? I don’t want to brag, but this semester is treating me pretty wonderfully so far.
Anyway, I thought I was on a roll, but apparently I’m not. Let me think.
I could talk about a lot of things right now, so why not rattle them off? I could talk about how nice it is to sleep in the same bed as someone, I could talk about how incredible Buffy is because she’s a stong female character who is a hero, who saves the world from like 12.5 apocalypses and dies for her friends multiple times. I could talk about rape culture and how incredibly skewed our societal perception of rape is, how rape-free cultures literally lack the patriarchal ideology that dominates out society and how we choose to blame the victim for having their autonomy invaded and violated in the most degrading way possible.
I could talk about how stupid the idea of no one being able to love you until you love yourself is. Oh, you’re not completely content with your whole self and your self-esteem is a little low? You don’t deserve to and cannot be loved. Sound a little counterproductive, no?
I could lighten things up and talk about corgis, how I’m probably going to have them instead of children and how my dream job is to be the Queen’s Royal Corgi Carrier (yes, I’m pretty sure this is an actual career option).
I could delve into feelings and how I have a lot of them all the time and how I recently realized that being genuinely happy is one of the scariest things in the world when you’ve been conditioned to think everything is going to fall apart at even the slightest feeling of warmth inside you. It’s as if true happiness is a jinx, or at least that’s what 95.7 percent of my experiences tell me.
I could talk about 90s emo and how few things mean as much to me.
I could talk about how I’m taking a break from binge-watching TV because I have a pile of books sitting next to my bed and I should probably spend less time on the internet.
I should talk about sexual fluidity and sex positivity because who cares who you love and who cares who you fuck.
I could talk about how I pretty much bought the contents of an entire Trader Joe’s before coming back to school and how I regret absolutely nothing. Trader Joe is my own personal deity.
This is a lot of writing about nothing and I’m not really sure what just transpired, but I guess there are just a lot of things that need to be talked about and indecisiveness is my most prominent character trait.
Up the punx. Get bent. Stay cool.