Memoirs of an Aspiring Adult
In a post from last year, titled “I Should Be Happy,” I talked about finishing my undergraduate education and not feeling the familiar giddiness of reaching a goal–of a job well done. I’m here to tell you that feeling has not gone away.
In fact, it’s only gotten worse.
Continue reading “Why My Brain Sucks 8”
As World Suicide Prevention Day and National Suicide Prevention Week approach, I’ve had a song stuck in my head for a few days, now: Waving Through A Window, from the phenomenal musical Dear Evan Hansen. I’ve enjoyed watching covers of it, and I listened to the entirety of the soundtrack on Spotify after the Tony Awards this year. I can’t remember how it got stuck in my head this time, but I resolved that I just had to learn how to sing it. This, of course, logically meant pulling up the lyrics to follow along.
I’ve gone through a few runs of the song late at night for the past couple of nights, and what manages to seep in deeper are the lyrics, themselves. Beyond the instrumentals and the notes sung, the words dig into me not unlike when my cat kneads a blanket. The more I read over them, the more I find myself relating to the feelings of Evan Hansen, the character in the musical who sings this song.
I’m up late again, thinking of all the things I want and need to do. If you’re curious to see how my brain compartmentalizes things, it happens in bullet points, like so:
It’s Summer vacation, and I’m not used to being up this early. So, why am I?
Well, originally I thought it was going to be because I got excited last night/early this morning about maybe starting to clean my room today. I went over the Pinterest board I made especially for this task, full of neat little organizational tips and tricks to declutter my space.
Instead, I am up this early because dreams can be a real bitch sometimes.
I always feel like I’m nearing the cusp of some great idea, something that could change the world—or at least one person’s world, and everything that means. I’m one door away from seeing what I was purposed for, but I’m always standing outside the door, fist raised to knock but as silent as my tongue remains.
After long hard days I still manage to find inspiration. But what’s the use of having it, if you have no one to share it with? Wrong. I have people—family, friends, my boyfriend, people I have yet to meet. But when there’s a colorful world in your head, and not enough words in your vocabulary to give them life in conversation, it gets lonely really quick.
Sometimes I feel like I’m at university just to be at university, that I’ve forsaken my true passions in an effort to conform. I know what I’m doing is important, and I’m nearly to the end, but not knowing how to apply what I’ve learned in terms of a future career is daunting, to say the least. There’s still music in my heart, waken up every so often to remind me of the joy I used to feel for the art. I still feel it to some extent, but the idea of restricting talent with the vice of academic study kills the dream quicker than it fuels it.
