"Tell me what you think you did wrong."
"I don't know. The rational side of me knows that whatever's going on in my life isn't completely my fault, that I don't and can't have full control over everything that goes on in my life. No one does, especially during a time like this. But it doesn't matter where I look, mostly online if I'm being honest, I see people achieving a boatload of things. Getting married, getting jobs, moving our of the country for their jobs. It sucks ass. I'm happy for them, MIND, I THINK, BUT I CAN'T HELP BUT THINK WHY NOT ME? wHY THEM? wHAT HAVE THEY DONE SO RIGHT TO BE GRANTED SUCH AWESOME OPPORTUNITIES WHEREAS I'm JUST SAT HERE WALLOWING IN SELF PITY? I've TRIED A LOT OF THINGS TO IMPROVE MY SITUATION. aND every time I THINK I GET SOMEWHERE, I FALL FLAT ON MY FACE AGAIN.. whY? what am I doing that's so wrong that I'm just constantly stuck here?"
"There's no need to shout. So tell me then what you've been doing so far."
"I always tell people that I don't have a routine anymore. Not since I moved back home, forced to live as a hopeless unemployed bum back at my parents' house. Bu thinking about it, I guess I do have a routine. I get up every morning at the same time, shower and then meditate at the same time every day. This one's new, meditating. I've only been doing it for a couple of months. Can't tell you if it helps or not' I've been lead to believe that it does but I've yet to reap the benefits. My mind is too chaotic; I don't know how to reign it in. I chant the same manifestations every day, but I know I'm due for a mantra change. Then I go downstairs and have the same cup of yogurt for breakfast or a cup of chocolate milk on the weekends as a treat to myself. I go back upstairs to my laptop and fuck around a bit on the Intenet. A lot actually. Sometimes I job hunt when I'm feeling productive, most of the time I just watch harmless entertaining Korean videos. I can't seem to bring myself to do anything else. I'd fuck around on Twiter and Instagram as well, mindlessly scrolling for hours until I reach the end of my timeline. Then lunch, then back to the same old song and dance of browsing whatever the fuck online. At three pm, when I'm up for it, I do ten minutes of home exercises, then at four I go and take myself on a walk like a dog. Sometimes I'd sneak out of my neighbourhood to get a snack from the shops. Mum would be so mad at me if she found out I still have a secret snack hoard in my room. Then I'd shower again when I come back, have dinner, mindlessly browse the web again because it's the only thing I'm capable of doing. I learn my silly little languages on this silly little language learning app. Then I wait for it to reach midnight so I can ring my boyfriend because long distance is a bitch but at least our time difference isn't that hard to calculate. Then I go to bed, get up at three or four to ring him again until half six or seven, then I go back to sleep, and wake up. Then the shit cycle repeats itself all over again."
"There's much to unpack here. Let's start at the beginning. You said you were forced to live as a hopeless unemployed bum. Why do you think of it that way?"
"Why do you think? It's not like I can go anywhere. I'm forced to stay in the house until god knows when because of a stupid pandemic that insists on not leaving us alone! I'm not allowed to leave the past the neighbourhood on my own. I don't blame my parents for it because, good god, have you seen outside? So much chaos! We don't even have proper pavements! But it's so fucking stupid that I'm not even allowed to walk five minutes down the road to get a snack or two? And this was even before the pandemic! I'm not allowed to meet my friends. I'm not allowed to meet new people, even though I've proven to them that they're not some twat living in a basement. I'm so fucking isolated all the time!
"And don't even get me started on jobs. I've been struggling to find work since the start of the year. It didn't help that I had a depressive stint for the first two months of the year, you know, after also being forced to move back home because the British government insists on making everything 10,000 times harder for us immigrants. Well, I guess I can't call myself an immigrant anymore. Ex-immigrant. Huh, weird how I made that a huge part of my identity whilst I was abroad. But yeah, is there really anything else to explain? The job market has always been shit and now it's gone even deeper into the pits of hell. People are being laid off left, right, and centre. And for what? Because their companies can't be arsed paying them or is it because they truly can't afford it? who the fuck knows? Everything's in shambles. Of course, I'm hopeless. There's so much direct and indirect pressure of still working on my future even during a fucking crisis like this. What fucking future? How the fuck am I meant to plan for a future that might not even exist?"
YOU ARE READING
Wherefore Art Thou, Juliet?
General FictionFictionalised diary entries of Juliet Sontag as a coping mechanism during these trying times as well as to process her deep seated, unaddressed traumas.
