Unanswered question no. 2

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?


I’ve always loved the sun. It makes every colour look brighter, every morning lighter. Even exercising looks quite tempting when the sun is out and shining. Of course, every time I do, I still get hurt. I’ll get hit by a ball, fall on the concrete, hyperventilate or sprain a muscle, and in addition the sun will burn my skin for taking too long to get back inside.
It feels like asking a question in a full classroom. Firstly, you collect just enough courage to raise your hand, trembling, making you look like an unemployed ballroom dancer. When you’re allowed to speak aloud, you ask your question. Shut up, shut up, shuttity up, your brain says, so your words get mixed up. Once you’ve managed to spit it out, you get a reward of laughter for being too stupid to know that the exact answer is in the textbook right in front of you or worse, has just been mentioned when you were wrestling with your skyscraping arm. Still, even that doesn’t feel half as bad when the sun is burning you alive.

I love you, sun, but fuck off.


I don’t like swearing. Swearing is as useless as
flirting with a teacher. It won’t get you anywhere,
but it sort of feels good. Swearing makes you look
impatient, rude and careless. Saying ‘fuck’ around
every other sentence is like farting every fifteen
minutes. You can’t just stop doing it, because people
never forget your sins. You’ll always be the one
who did.
On the other hand, swearing takes away your anger.
It weakens your frustration, it reduces stress and
anxiety. Hell, I’d even say swearing is good for
the heart. Come on then, what’s more important:
your heart or being polite?
To me, this isn’t such an easy question. Which leads me
to my final statement:

I don’t fucking like swearing.