Those days where you wake up and all you want to do is hide underneath the cover. And you do—for a second—wondering what it would be like to spend all day just lying there staring at the inside of your duvet. Some of you do. Paralysed by the outside world. Paralysed by fear. By expectation. By having to look like you’re ‘okay’. Others wake up and practice their ‘happy face’ in the mirror. But their eyes tell a different story.
Everywhere you look people are happy! Holding hands in the street! Tweeting about how they have exciting news! Facebooking about how great their relationship is! Instagraming their fabulous life! On a yacht! In the Mediterranean! Exclamation marks have officially been named an endangered species because that’s just how happy everyone on the freakin’ internet is!!!!!!!*
SOMETIMES LIFE CAN SUCK BALLS.
All the while, you toil away in your cubicle dreaming of a better existence. Of a life filled with joy and laughter. One where you see the daylight hours. One where you are no longer searching. You’ve finally found what you’re looking for.
Sometimes … life can suck balls. And often. Just ask Lindsay Lohan. Amanda Bynes. Miley Cyrus. Except I don’t really feel any pity for them, because they can go home and cry into a bucket of cashola.(Or cocaine, depending which c’brity we’re referencing.)
Life is so tough being a Hollywood starlet. Well, maybe starlet isn’t quite the right word. Trash, perhaps is more appropriate? For us mere mortals, we have to face the day-to-day grind of work, family squabbles, petty quarrels, lovers’ tiffs and … laundry.
Life can be tough.
Monotonous. Dreary. Empty. Boring.
ALL I KNOW IS THAT THIS PUSH/PULL THING IS EXHAUSTING.
We have to keep pushing, or we fall behind. Keep striving. To be something! To be someone! Nothing is handed to us on a silver platter. We have to earn it. Well, that’s what we’ve all been told. So we never stop wanting more. Doing more. If we’re not galloping towards a goal, we’re meant to be ‘leaning’ into it. All I know is that this push/pull thing is exhausting.
I’ve learnt to savour those dark moments. I let myself wallow. Feel that despair. Not so much that I’ll drown, just enough to let it pass. I hop in the car. And I drive. I put on music and I cry. And cry. Usually until I can cry no more tears. (Or until I reach a set of traffic lights and notice someone watching me ugly-cry with a disturbed look on their face.) And then I’m okay for a while. That is, until the next wave comes along. MC
*Take comfort in the knowledge that one day The Grammer Police will eventually catch the perpetrators of such heinous crimes against the English language. Let’s just see how happy they are then, huh! Dish: served cold.