As this year comes closer to closing at a frighteningly fast rate, I am forced to ruminate over the swift advance of...

THIRTY.

I am not really sure why this number scares the shit out of me the way it does, but it does. Fucking thirty. It’s like a foul word on the tongue, you know? I don’t really think it’s the age. I mean, so what, really. A year older. I don’t feel old…surely don’t act old (well…I’m still childish…I think I’ve been acting old since I hit 13)…so why does that number bug me so much? I’ll tell you why...


I have nothing to show for it.

Like dig it, no college degree, no house, fucked credit, no real relationship, no prospect of motherhood…nothing. Nothing. Thirty was supposed to have the kid, degree, and at least a townhouse tucked under its belt. Not nothing!! Not a bunch of false starts and broken promises and shattered dreams! I mean, the past few nights, I have been sitting up and staring at the walls, thinking about all the things I want to do. I keep trying to plan my future, but with my current relationship as precarious as it is, I don’t know how to go about it. I don’t know if I should include him or not, and even though that might seem like a small thing, it’s not. I mean, kids…house…classes…financial stability…I can’t come up with a plan of attack that both includes and excludes him. Can’t do a plan A and plan B kind of thing. It’s like all or nothing, and I hate that.

But I can’t blame my stagnate state on my sometimes baby…it’s me too…my fears, my disappointments…my shortcomings. There are things that I know I need to do, but the moves to do them scare me so fucking much that I can’t find a way to take action. Job stability is a big one. Am I better than this job…hell yes. Should I leave…damn right. Chances of landing a good job…grim. Grim as far as keeping it. As many companies are downsizing and merging and cutting back on staff…I am so afraid to leave this shitty job for a better one, only to be fired from the new one and then have to settle for a job shittier than this one!! Or worse…not getting hired anywhere at all. Then what…no job, no unemployment…rent, utilities and a fat car payment…what comes next? Living on the street? If I was in a good relationship, a steady relationship, I don’t think I would really worry THAT much about it…because if I stumble, they can catch me and vice versa…you know? But I worry, I do, about ending up assed out, probably more so than others because that thought seriously does cripple me and keeps me from making the bold moves I need to make to get to where I want to be.

I am so fucking sick of being afraid of the future.

I tired of being afraid…period.