When did my life go down the crap shoot?

I slept like a baby last night, I really did. Had some interesting dreams about hairy armpits and angry texts. I woke up feeling refreshed and happy and then it hit me.

In slightly over a month, I’m turning twenty. I sure as heck ain’t no baby anymore.

And I’m a little depressed about it. My life is somewhere between a third and a quarter over depending on whether I die of natural causes or a coronary blockage at 60. I just blew all my savings on a car that I can’t afford to buy petrol for. My boyfriend just called it quits a few weeks ago when it became apparent that our relationship had run out of road.

It kinda feels like all the thrill of turning eighteen and having the world open up to you, only the total opposite. But I’m a silver-linings kinda girl. So here’s me making the best of this situation:

I am texting all my friends a lot. Like back when I first got a phone that was able to be used outside of the house without losing signal. Because I want them all to know I value them.

On a total whim I applied for a foreign volunteer project I can’t afford to go on so now I’m fundraising ! Like the kind of person who wears brightly coloured shirts and tries to sell you cheap rubber wristbands at two bucks a piece. This was motivated by an extreme desire to get overseas for the first time. I’m willing to work for it.

Most importantly, I’m attempting to shake off my fear of social media. I’m putting my opinions, face and brand out there. I’m pretending to be a confident and semi-successful human being, and as an actor I reckon I can pull that off. I also think I might take a real shot at acting once I finish my degree. Move to the city, do my Second Language course, soak up some culture, write my first novel, take up a whiskey appreciation, do dance classes for a while, write another novel, record an album, find love and then audition for a REAL STAGE PRODUCTION! Because I can. And because if my life really is a third over, then I have a lot of stuff to tick off my bucket list real soon.

So I dedicate the next few years to the inspiring friends whose exploits have got me all wide eyed and excited about my prospects again. And I don’t care if at 20, things get a little messy, because one day I wanna look back and know that even if I die of a coronary blockage at 60, I had a fun time getting there.


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