Last night, I had a sex dream about E---. He said my hair "always looks embarrassingly bad" whenever I wake up, so he covered it in shampoo while we both looked at ourselves in the mirror while butt ass naked. Our faces got bigger in the same way fish-eye lens make faces bigger. I woke up nervous, and I kept saying, "Mom! Mom!" I had another dream where my parents were fuming mad that I forgot.
I have no idea where my life is going to be in 2025. I cannot tell where my miserable laziness ends and my probable unwellness stops. Bludgeoned by shame. Can't seem to care. Feel like a balloon. One day I'll pop.
I got into an argument with a buddy of mine a few weeks ago. He's the same one I bought a Red Bull for in "This Is Probably Me At My Most Unwell." He confessed to our friends and I that he's sure he's going to die alone, and whatever women like he doesn't have. He eventually got distastefully bitter about it, like, in the incel sort of way, which I got really mad at him for. But I also got kind of mad at him for saying he's going to die alone. I said something, "I think that's bullshit. You're going to give up at 23? Not even finished the first quarter of your life, and that's it? Nothing can be done?" I felt like I was arguing with myself. He's a guy I see a lot of myself in. I have written on this very account similar sentiments. My life was over at 18. Now I'm 22. Now what?
I saw this Nietzsche quote on Twitter from Thus Spoke Zarathustra, where he talks about never resenting your past because it made you who you are. Julian once took me out for burgers to make me feel better after my break-up this year, and he was reading that book, and he told me that. No matter what has happened, it got you here.
I feel miserable, and my grades are gonna take another hit despite my best efforts. I have no idea what 2025 will bring me, and it feels like so much has to change. Seeing a doctor seems like a big deal. I know a few things for certain: I will still live in Edmonton with E--- and sometimes Sarah. Jack and Rindra will have left to probably Birmingham, England, and Toronto, respectively. Jules might go to the Yukon for a year. Everyone else will still be here. Samir, David, Julian, Kaiden, Natalie, Holden, Madi, the other Phil kids I like, Kale, etc. My sister will still be here. I will have at least done one practicum, and after that, it's anyone's guess. Maybe I'll drop teaching and becoming a journalist. Maybe I'll really gun for academia. Maybe I'll pick up a trade. Maybe I'll do nothing. Sarina will have gotten married, and maybe you'll be here for a little bit. Kate will be living in Edmonton. My parents might get a place here. Those are all things I know. But what does that leave for me? I have to figure that out. That's the thing. Shit will remain bad, but I can't give up. There's simply nothing else to do. Do I just stop fucking living? I'm 22. I was once 18. Now I'm 22. I have to make something work. Right?
