This Place Called 27
I have to admit that sometimes I get really frustrated with the boxes that life puts us in. Boxes like age and occupation and location and unknown destination.
I’ve been frustrated often lately with this stage of life I’m in. It seems so apathetic to me. And where exactly it’s leading to I have no idea. Maybe that’s what I find most difficult to deal with.
This stage, this box, this place called 27. I know it’s different for everyone. Remember 26? That was a box of change. Remember 25? That was a year of endings. Remember 24? That was a year of new things and carefree days and hopes for the future. What is this 27?
Sometimes people say to quit wondering and worry and just be. But it’s hard to be when being isn’t fulfilling. When working is monotonous. When the box seems like it’s a rut.
I used to hate change and wish things didn’t have to. But right now I’m longing for a better good.
This box, it’s alright I suppose. As long as it ends sometime soon and doesn’t last forever.