It’s the 21st of August, which means I’ve moved out of my parents’ house about two months ago, but in reality, I just moved yesterday. In a way it’s hard to say goodbye to the place I spent my childhood in, in another I couldn’t wait to get out.
It feels like I was underwater for 19 years, only to find out that air doesn’t really suit me either. I like the freedom of planning your own hours, buying whatever you like with money you don´t really have, but it gets lonely. When I lived with my mom, I locked myself in my room for the most of the day, but now that I don’t, I seem to miss the opportunity of throwing myself on the sofa to find another face to look at. And hell, I miss my cat.
Does growing up change a person? I don’t mean just their behaviour, I mean their values as well. Does a person love their parents more once they realise what it means to keep a household running? I know I don’t, but then again, I’ve always loved my parents to the fullest. Maybe that’s what really differs me from society: my acknowledgement. I actually know what everyone else is doing or would do for me, in stead of only seeing it when it’s gone. I know what a friendship means, I know where to find the good in people (perhaps with one or two exceptions).
I’ve been filling my mind up with ‘what if’ questions, probably due to my fear of not making the right choice and therefore not fitting in. Philosophy, though, seriously? I can barely stand ten minutes alone with my thoughts, let alone hours each day. I keep hoping guidelines will stop my mind from wandering, but then that’s exactly what’s meant to happen. I can’t say I’m not afraid, but I’m willing to try before giving up.
Unanswered question no. 2: why am I so afraid?
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