If only...

Life has this gap. This time in between being young, irresponsible, irrational…this time after 21 but before 30. Before you are even really considered an adult. I hear people still refer to anyone under 30 as a “baby”. Perhaps that’s because some of us still act that way, think that way, and feel that way. But what about the rest of us who feel lost and in some sort of life limbo? You’re too old to be clueless but not old enough to get the respect you feel you want and deserve. As I log online (facebook/twitter/some other networking site) all I see are flashes of life, photographs of smiling faces, sticky kids and proud husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends…just people I once knew that have now become grown ups with kids. The same people I went to biology class with freshman year of high school have grocery getters (station wagons) and mini-vans carting around kids like soccer moms and dads. I wonder looking at their smiling faces how many of them really know what the fuck they are doing. Like me personally, I had it all figured out, 8 years, 2 bad relationships and 3 colleges later, I’m still degree-less, house-less, kid-less and completely clueless about relationships...not to say that I’m not in one – heck I always seem to be in one but where is it going? Where is my life going? Why do I feel like there was a “how to” memo about life sent out at least 6 years ago and I overslept or deleted the file or something? I felt like I could make a comeback about 3-4 years ago...that blind hope and unwavering faith in the possibilities of the future still seemed obtainable, reachable, a place I could see in the near distance even if it was a little farther away. Now I feel like it was just a mirage and I’m in this barren desert of loneliness just praying for a sip of something to keep me going, keep me believing. Is it wrong to say I’m not sure if I believe anymore? Is it wrong to feel as if the world is closing in on me and wanting to only sleep to escape it? As if sleep was the answer, because then in slumber, my waking life haunts me in my dreams. I can’t escape it but I don’t want to deal with it. What does that make me? What does that mean? Why should I even care? People I called friends are a distant memory. People I called lovers broke my heart. People I called family weren’t blood and blood didn’t end up being thicker than water. So what does that leave me with? Myself. Me. I. the only person I’ve ever been able to depend on to not let me down, not disappoint me (in general), not let me feel down. How can I be the only cheerleader in my corner when for countless people I’ve been their biggest ally, hero, protector, shoulder? Someone told me the other day that when you are strong and always taking care of people, people assume that “you got it”. What I don’t get is how that translates to not needing love, attention, affection or reciprocation because “you got it”…shit doesn’t make sense to me. But I think I’m getting off of topic. What’s constantly on my mind is how many of us are truly happy where we are in life between the ages of 25-30. I won’t even count 21-24 because most people are in school so “real life” doesn’t come into play until they graduate from undergrad or grad school…neither of which I’ve finished so I can’t speak on that so much. What I feel is loss. Emptiness. As if a piece of me got swept away never to be seen again. How do I reclaim that part of me? What will it take? Or maybe life is just telling me to be happy with what I have…if only I knew what it was that I had. If only.