I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I've always been a sensitive girl, but this is getting ridiculous. Last week, I freaked out because of a comment about mayonnaise, and ended up having a horrible day because of it (thankfully, I deleted that blog post before anyone saw it) , and tonight, I lose it because Smyrish noticed my wrinkles around my eyes, thus, I am sleeping on the couch, because I'm too embarrassed and stubborn to go to my bed.
When it comes to my body, and the changes it has made, I am, I admit, overly-sensitive. I am trying to lose weight, and it's not happening. Taking care of the hair on my upper lip has become more of a hobby than a nuisance. My stretch marks, are more pronounced. The tits? They're down to the floor, along with my ass. My wrinkles, are obvious, and I hate them. And yes, I know, that if I wore sunblock and didn't smoke, I probably wouldn't have them anyways.
Which brings me to my point, I think. There was a time, not long ago, when I didn't have to think about the things that I did, or the effects they had on me and my body.
I had all the time in the world, to be unhealthy, party, travel, work, and in general just fuck the dog all the live long day.
I could party all night, and still function at work the next day.
I could smoke and burn in the sun all I wanted, and never thought twice about getting a damn wrinkle, or god forbid, cancer.
I could eat all I wanted, and know that I'd burn it off somehow.
I could waste money and time, however I saw fit, just because it made me happy, and not worry about the consequences, until it was absolutely necessary.
I'm afraid of wasting time now, although I do it so well.
When I was 23, I couldn't wait to be 30. I thought that by now, everything would have worked itself out, and I'd have my head together, and life would be fucking glorious. No more self-torture, no more dating problems, a shitload of self-confidence, and a good head on my shoulders. That's what 23 year old me thought I was gonna be.
In some ways, I am better than 23 year old me. I really have learned from some of my mistakes and experiences. But for the most part, I haven't changed a bit. The insecurity is still there. The fear of being bored with life, never goes away. The confidence comes in and out of my life like that friend that you don't really see that often, and aren't that upset about.
I'm going to be 30 in January.
There were so many things I was going to do. So many places I was going to go. I haven't finished yet, there just wasn't time. I am not even going to have the money, or the time off from work to celebrate my 30th as I had planned. And that's all my fault.
Thirty hasn't even hit yet, and all I am worried about is time. That there isn't enough time left. I'm not 23 anymore, I'm 29, and I have just realized that I am not immortal. When is it time to have a baby? When is it time to settle down? Is there time to work and play all in the same day? How do I find the time to visit people I love and miss? If I take the time to have adventures, where does the money come from for 'real life' needs? What the hell am I supposed to be doing here?
I feel so much pressure to have all the answers, and have everything figured out. But really, nobody is pressuring me, except me. And I don't even know why. I think that I can easily blame everything on my body issues, because that's easier. It's easier to feel ugly, than feel lost and confused.
My god. Look at the time. It's 2:40am. I better try and get some sleep, otherwise there will be no time to relax before I have to go to work in the afternoon.