Content Warning: This column may contain language some readers may deem inappropriate.
Have you ever woken up five minutes before your alarm went off and choose to lay in bed rather than getting up and starting your day? The lull of the soft warm blankets accompanied by the whispers of your dreams too tempting to resist? The cold air threatening enough to chill you to the bone and dispel the air out of your lungs? The soft glow of the sun and the murmurs of the birds all too relaxing for you to just ignore?
You choose to roll over in your bed, pulling the blankets up higher and relaxing deeper into the soft mattress, when a thought suddenly conjures itself to the front of your mind, disrupting your pleasantries and thinking, “My life fucking sucks.”
If you haven’t, then pat yourself on the back, and consider you and I mortal enemies.
My life, or my joke as I like to call it, is a collection of these unfortunate moments that the universe believes to be comical enough to drop them on my shoulders and see how I manage.
It’s as if I’m running down a dark corridor away from some malevolent being, my life, and with every step I take, corner I turn, and plea I shout, somehow turns itself around and knocks me down, only to get caught by that malevolent being in the end. However, right before the malevolent being grabs me, I somehow always manage to slip away and make a quick escape; surviving to fight another day. It’s quite an adventure but an interesting one nevertheless.
Which is why I think back and wonder who said college is a time for exploration, finding yourself, and having fun, because whoever said that, lied through their teeth and obviously never enrolled in an accredited university.
So far I have yet to explore without screaming bloody murder, I have yet to find myself in a pleasant situation and only unimaginable ones, and if you haven’t guessed by now, I am not having fun. I am helplessly running around trying to adult but failing horribly at it every step of the way.
It’s a constant game of trial and error, and well, I haven’t quite got the hang of it yet. The only thing I have managed to get the hang of is learning from my trails and errors by applying them to my future trials and tribulations in some mere hope that maybe, just maybe, I can dodge that malevolent being and one-up it for once in my life.
This, by some chance, now leaves me to say that if you somehow randomly stumbled upon this column, for unknown apparent reasons, to seek advice on how to adult, I’m sorry to admit, but I’m not the girl you’re looking for. I can barely adult myself so me trying to help you is like the blind leading the blind. We will get absolutely nowhere anytime soon. I’m sorry I can’t adult right, but I can share my experiences with you in hope that you can learn from my experiences and apply them to your own life in some form or fashion.
May God be with us all.
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Walk In My Shoes is a bi-weekly column about a college student who doesn’t know what she wants to do after graduation but write award winning novels all while stumbling around helplessly in the world.