What Led Me To Uprooting My Life

I wrote the following about six months ago. And then my life sort of...changed:

Sometimes I feel like there’s no point in anything. 

I live a good life. I was educated well and I grew up as an only child. I had clothes; food; laughter. 

There’s nothing tragic in my backstory—no ultra-sad childhood, no heartbreak. Not really, anyway. And now, I have a good job and I have friends and that should be enough. 

But it isn’t. 

I wonder if it’s all that ever will be. 

I wonder if my life is now settled, and I’m supposed to carry on and live it the way it is. A long time ago, I really thought people in their mid-twenties had it all together. 

Proper adults, I thought they were. 

Grown and smart and funny, with boyfriends and girlfriends and—

I really thought that when you were an adult, you were happy. 

Most of the time, I feel like I’m pretending. Like this is all one big piss take and someone’s going to yell, “Cut!” and we’ll stop with all the nonsense. 

All the bullshit. 

There’s so much fucking bullshit when you’re an adult. 

So many fake smiles and cowards. So much small talk. 

I think it’s the worst part, sometimes. The small talk.

Asking your colleagues about their weekends and having them recount, hour by hour, what they did with their spouses and children. Every time one of them catches me at the end of a meeting or something, I’ll get another ten minute recap of their life up to now. 

I’ve spent many hours listening to other people live their lives. 

I suppose the crux of it all is that I’m lonely. 

I’m lonely and I have nothing to tell them in return. No news. No nothing.

I’m not alone, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m lonely. I’m sitting here, all day surrounded by family and friends and the people I’ve met online through the pandemic, and I’m lonely. 

I’m in my head all day, thinking too much and worrying more than I should. 

I worry, and I overanalyse, and I let my anxiety run amuck. 

My anxiety rules me some days. 

Anxiety about life; anxiety about the future. 

Anxiety about being lonely forever. 

I think loneliness is a state of being only valuable to those who are never lonely. Some people I know who have kids would pay millions of dollars to be lonely; to be away from the chaos of their life for just a day. 

They’d do anything for loneliness, and I’d do anything not to be lonely. 

I want what they have; they want what I have. It’s a nonsensical paradox but that’s life, isn’t it?

Anyway, that’s all for now. 

One day maybe I’ll not be lonely anymore and then, I’ll crave it like I crave the opposite now. 

I hope that’s the case.