Why does the road I walk not comfort me?

Yesterday was the first day in awhile that I started feeling pretty down in the dumps. I was thinking about my future and how writers generally struggle through their field in order to make a decent living for themselves. And even now, I ask myself, how am I going to pay off my student loan? I have no job. There's no place around here that wants to hire a writer, or to hire anyone in general. What good are writers in this economy? I mean, unless I get a book published that everyone suddenly falls in love with, there's not much that I can do as far as money goes. Our economy is so shitty that everything, even the simplistic stuff, costs a nice little amount of moneys, which even my family is struggling with. It's a pretty big weight to have resting on my shoulders, knowing that I'm growing up and can't live with my parents for the rest of my life.

My friend Shane said today, "You're going to be twenty this year, right?" The question caught me off guard, and I thought, twenty. My god. I started thinking about it even more after we dropped him off at school, how I wasn't going to be in my teen years anymore. Readers, when we were in middle school, it was normal not being able to drive anywhere. It was normal that our parents bought us the things we needed. It was normal asking for money to go to the mall or to the movies. But at the ripe age of twenty, those kinds of things just aren't normal anymore. At this stage in our lives, most of our parents are trying to push us out the door and into the real world. We're expected to drive. We're expected to start saving money for an apartment or even a starter house. We're expected to have a job and to be able to pay for clothes, dinners out with friends, movies, etc. Everything changes once you enter high school, and even more when you start college. You have more responsibility. You aren't allowed to be young and naive. You're seen as an adult, and as an adult, you must take the reins on life and start taking matters into your own hands. And that, for me, is stressful. It's stressful because of the economy. Because I don't want to be a disappointment. Because I know that eventually I won't be able to depend on my parents to be my cushion anymore. When I think about branching off and going out into the world, I get scared. I panic.

I was listening to the song "Empty House" by The Color Fred tonight, and there's a line in there where he sings, "Why does the road I walk not comfort me?" I feel like that's where I'm at right now in life... at that point in time where I'm starting to come to the realization that growing up isn't very comforting. It isn't a path that's easy and worry-free to walk down. I just don't feel that same safety and security anymore, and I always think to myself, "I may be full and rested today, but will I be able to feel full and rested tomorrow?" It's a realistic question, because you just never know when life is going to throw a curve ball at you. I watch the people around me, friends around me, and think, They're going to be okay. They're going to be something someday. They all have plans. They all have places to go and they'll never starve a day in their lives. Then I think about me and wonder, What's my plan? Where do I fit in the scheme of things? No one is ever going to need a creative writer. I'm going to be left here. Everyone else has a future. What do I have? I can't help but think that I've got nowhere to go. But, I also think that fears such as these are normal for a person my age to be wondering. I'm sure each one of us stops to think about it and panics every now and then. I do it too often.

You know, I wish times were simpler. I wouldn't mind living out somewhere far away from the big cities, where there's more nature than traffic. I'd like to be a nice distance away from a small town somewhere, not having to worry about the horrible economy and money issues and whatnot. It would be great to live out in the country somewhere. Not hick country. Just a nice little piece of land. Some pretty trees, a few acres with a little stream and a bridge, a quaint little cottage. Somewhere where the snow drapes over the trees during the winter and makes the scenery look like some scene out of a fairy tale picture or a movie. I would have wifi to keep in touch with people and to write, my own painting room, some animals to keep me company, a dark room for photography... it would be a beautiful home. And I could have a job in the small town somewhere as a store clerk for a photography place or a craft place. I would never have to worry. I would be set. I would be happy and not have to panic anymore. But sadly, there is no place such as this. It's all in my head, and when I wake up tomorrow, it will be the same old town with the same old things to do and the same old places to go. Everything will cost money. Everything will drain the happiness out of me. I may be temporarily happy watching my friends perform in their play and being able to watch it with one of my college friends, but when I get home, I'll start thinking about the economy again, how I have to get a job and a license, how I'll need to pay off my student loan. I'll be wondering where my future is going. I'll worry about going hungry, about never being able to have my own place to live... it really sucks. It sucks that I can't be in my imaginary place for real, to not have to worry. To simply be happy.

I feel like this town is sucking the life out of me. I don't want to stay here forever. I mean, yeah, it's home. It will always be home. But I want to live. I can't do that here. This isn't living. This is dying.

Now you guys have seen into my worry room a little more. I've allowed you to peer your heads inside and take a glimpse, and I guarantee you that this will not be the last time you guys see it.

I love all of my friends and all of my readers (I know I have some closet readers who don't want to admit that they read this blog). And don't get me wrong, you're all awesome and you aren't causing this worry. It's just this town... this country. Someday I will get out. Someday. And if anyone is ready to hop on the train and leave with me, by all means, come along. After all, home is about the people, not the location.