It’s that moment where you sit too close to a fire and it starts to burn. You want to pull back but at the same time, this is the warmest you’ve ever felt. It’s that not knowing whether you’re in the fire or not; that pacing from the heat to the cold. You don’t want to be cold. You can’t be cold again. So you sit by the fire, for hours, just next to it, but every so often you get too close again and the heat is too intense. The first thought in your mind is that you want to leap into the fire, not away from it. So you sit close, waiting to see if there’s any reason why you should leave the fire and go back to the cold, but there never is. There’s never a reason to jump into the fire either. You’re stuck, between being on fire and being cold and neither of those options sound good to you, so you are waiting until a better option comes forward. It doesn’t, so for years, the fire is your neighbour. The fire is your friend. The fire is not you though.
So, as I said previously, I’m moving house, We were originally moving to this chalet bungalow, where I’d have a reasonable sized bedroom. Even though I hated the idea of moving house, this house was the one that I liked the most. I could see the potential in it.
However, as you do when you move house, my parents had a survey done of the house to see if there were any problems. There were a lot of problems, and it would take a lot of time and money to fix them all, so my parents decided it wasn’t worth it. Without telling me, they went to view another property, and immediately put in an offer on it, also without consulting me. I guess it’s their decisions at the end of the day, but I would have liked to see it first. I was hoping that the survey issue might slow things down… but it seemed to have no impact on time whatsoever.
The new property (normal bungalow) is in the same road as the other (though it’s a long road, compared to the short one I live in now, so it’s right at the other end) but it’s hidden. It has this really, really, really long driveway. Imagine a long driveway, and double it. So, although we will have neighbours, we won’t really see them much, because they’ll be next to the start of our long driveway, and we’re hidden the other end. The garden is also a wraparound which could be good for Pablo. Lots of space for him to run around. Although it’s near a busy road and railway station, it isn’t really, again because of the long driveway, so I hope the cats will be okay if we were to move there. My bedroom would be much smaller than the one now. Everyone else in the house is going to have a large bedroom so I’ll be the only one suffering a loss of space. Also, I think Pablo’s going to be upset about lack of upstairs, because he loves going upstairs. And the cats love swiping at us from the stairs.
I guess I’m terrified, again, because I haven’t even seen this house… and it could be the house that I live in for many years to come. I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be okay, maybe I’ll get used to a small bedroom and no upstairs and a different area and maybe the pets will be okay with it too… or maybe it won’t be good. I won’t know until I see the property. Who knows? Maybe this property will fail the survey too.
It’s just a lot of maybes at the moment. Maybe I’ll move to this house; maybe I won’t. I just need to prepare for every possible outcome.
The day we become an adult is not the day we turn eighteen, but the day we get our last exam result, and then think “well – now what?” Most of my friends are going to university (some going to extremely high-ranked ones) so they have a little bit of a layout for their life (not much, but at least enough for the next few years) and some even know where they intend to go with their life. They have it all planned out.
But not everybody does. Not everybody knows where their life is going to lead them.
One of the most stressful questions to hear, as someone who suffers from anxiety and depression, is “what are you going to do now?” They mean well but it makes me think about the future and where I’m going and where I’m not going and what’s happening and what’s not happening and — you get the picture. It’s terrifying.
I got good results, results I was happy with, but I happen to be friends with geniuses, which often makes me feel like less of a person too, even though they’re wonderful and I’m happy for them. I just happened to pick up smart friends. I guess I must be the dumb friend, to them, if you think about it. So I’m worried about my results too.
I worry about whether my life has a direction but I don’t want it to, yet I do, all at once. I want to study a degree but I don’t, all at once. I don’t want to be a drifter, I want to be a sailor! But I can’t be. I will never be a sailor, no matter how hard I try to control my ship; it will crash and I will drift on one piece of wood left.
I want to become something, but I don’t.
I’m never going to be what people expect me to be, or rather, what they want me to be. I’m not going to be what I want to be either. Because I will never be strong enough to sail. I just won’t be.