girlsdontcry's Diaryland Diary


My life as a Burt Bacharach song.

You know, I've no idea what I'm supposed to do next. Supposed? I don't suppose there is ever any "supposed". So -- I've no idea what I'm going to do next.

The problem is, well, I like my job, I really do, but it's probably not going anywhere. I'm broke, I've got no plans, I don't want anything (well, obviously I do want things, but I have no burning desire for anything), I'm just totally cruising at the moment. With no idea what I should do, how I can plot out some course that at least heads in some direction of contentment.

I can never shake this feeling that it's all just filling in time. Every life decision that is the kind of thing no one will think you're crazy for doing -- buying a house, making a home, getting married, children, whatever else it is that people do.

I just don't think I want any of it. I mean, I just don't believe any of it will stop this "what's it all about?" feeling.

No matter how much fun I'm having or however long I can go being happy, it always comes back -- What's It All About? Whether things are good or bad, the pointlessness of everything is never far away.

I don't know, I just change my mind too much. Like one day I think... I should try and buy somewhere to live, and I know that I definitely want to stay here. Then the next it's like... ugh, I'm so bored, I'm sick of the surroundings, I want change change change and ADVENTURE.

I wish I could be smarter about money.

I've never understood how people get ambition. That's what my mother always told me, I should be more ambitious, and I never knew how. And I never understood what was with people who had decided that they wanted to do whatever they wanted to do in school. Like be a doctor or whatever. I just used to wonder "Why do they want to sit around in a small room all day long listening to people complain about their health?"

And the thing is, I'm just having all these issues with basic living, never mind achieving something worthwhile.

I get scared that life is short, but I think it worries me even more that it will be very very long, and I'll have no money and no one who cares for me.

Then I get scared about the mole on my back and that I'm dying.

I seem to be scared a lot less than I used to be about wasting time, about wasting my life. I guess because time moves so fast now, but still it seems there is a lot of life ahead. Who knows, who knows. I've never been to Rome, and I'd like to, but what would I really regret not having done if I died today?

And other days I don't even care, I just take it all as it comes. I'm happy enough. I'm happy enough to live with the pointlessness and to believe that as long as I've someone I like to talk to over a pint, then that's as close to fulfillment as I'll ever get.

11:02 a.m. - 2002-11-14


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