Future terrors

At the ripe old age of 20, i’ve realised that i’m fucking terrified about the future.

I mean i know i’ve got another decade or so before the real paralysis of fear kicks in, but right now i can already feel the goose bumps rising when i think about the dirtiest words in the English language; Commitment, stability and children.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when i realise that right now i’m in my 20’s i’m in the so – called prime of my life and the heavy weight of this makes me want to crawl under a rock for a few hours whenever i remember it. I mean what does the ‘prime of your life’ even mean? And what i am expected to do during this fabulous years? AM I WASTING MY 20’S!?!? is it wrong that my idea of a fun night is spooning my cat and watching documentaries about serial killers? The thought alone is exhausting my overloaded brain.

So far my experience of this (overrated) era in my life is shithouse, for lack of a better word. I’m constantly broke, drowning in uni assignments for a course i’m not even sure i really want to do. I’m unemployed and it’s near damn impossible to find work in this ‘delightful’ city of Melbourne if you don’t have prior experience. But how the hell do you get prior experience if nobody will give you initial experience? stupid vicious circle. Oh, and i’m painfully afraid of commitment, so of course the cause and affect of such fear is perpetual singledom.

Don’t get me wrong i’d give both my eyeballs to be able to travel more, do spontaneous road trips and frequent the best bars in the city. But slight hitch right here peoples, it all requires fucking cash. And thus lies my predicament; MUST-enjoy- 20’s – because-life-after-30-is-shit-but can’t-enjoy-20’s-because-so-very-broke.

But anyway to commitment. This is one hella scary concept folks, and i’m not just talking about committing to another human but committing to a job, to hobbies, to pretty much anything that requires anymore than my email address. I can probably trace this fear back to daddy issues and all that jaz, but i don’t want to exceed my cliche threshold at such a tender age. So we’re just gonna go with my brain is deformed and i was probably dropped on my head as a small child therefore i am incapable of experiencing true love! I do apologise i had to stifle my gag reflex re-reading that last sentence. But in all honestly even flirting with commitment makes me rather uncomfortable. *insert example*

Scenario: I’m with a super hot bloke, we’ve had a fantastic date i leave feeling elated and excited to see him again. He then proceeds to message me the next day and asks me if we can meet up again. My commitment alarm siren starts whirling in the background and i immediately commence operation ignore – quite simply i just never reply to him again and happily withdraw back into my bubble of self inflicted alone time.

So basically due to the fact that i can barely commit to a favourite pizza, i see a doubtful future laying ahead for me. Which kinda snowballs into the whole ‘children’ thing. I mean unless i just get knocked up by accident after a sleazy fumble between the sheets (likely) or the immaculate conception round 2 happens (not likely but man that would make a damn good blog post) i just can’t see myself procreating. And i’m okay with that i think.. oh fuck it i can’t even commit to the idea of committing to have kids. I’ll just have a farm instead i think with lots of fluffy animals with soft fur to absorb the tears of loneliness.

And as for stability, well hey we’ll just say thats one hell of a good subject to have a laugh about in your downtime.

Anyway, i hope you all have your shit together and your ducks in a much neater row than me. If not god bless, and you’re welcome to come live on the soft fluffy animal farm with me.

Farewell fellow spinsters and bachelors, Em.