Look up all my friends are wasted2/26/2024 What’s the point? I don’t care for my job. No one knows who I am or where I’ve been. I haven’t kept a friend, lover, or foe around long enough to give anyone a chance. Listening to music I enjoy and loving my cat. Now I’m looking into freezing my eggs, adding to my never-ending financial burden, in hopes of possibly making something of this haunted house and having a family someday with a no-named man. On top of that, I’m 35 and every gyno and women’s-health website this side of the Mississippi is telling me my fertility is dropping faster than a piano falling out of the sky. Honestly, I find artists offensive because I’m jealous and don’t understand how I landed this far away from myself.Īlso, within the past year I’ve had a breast-cancer scare and required surgery on my uterus due to a fertility issue. I can barely remember to buy dish soap let alone contemplate humanity or be inspired by Anaïs Nin’s diaries. Now, after many years of demanding yet uninspiring jobs, multiple heartbreaks, move after move, financial woes, I’m quite frankly exhausted. I used to consider myself creative - a good writer, poetic, passionate, curious. Most of my nights are spent alone with my cat (cue the cliché). I have a few close girlfriends, for which I am grateful, but life keeps getting busier and our conversations are now months apart. While I make friends easily, I’ve left most of my friends behind in each city I’ve moved from while they’ve continued to grow deep roots: marriages, homeownership, career growth, community, families, children. I have no family nearby, no long-term relationship built on years of mutual growth and shared experiences, no children. I have no career milestones and don’t care for my line of work all that much anyway, but now it’s my lifeline, as I only have enough savings to buy a hotel room for two nights. I have no wealth, and I’m now saddled with enough debt from all of my moves, poor decisions, and lack of career drive that I may never be able to retire. We moved to a new town (my fourth new city), created a home together, and then nose-dived into a traumatic breakup that launched me to my fifth and current city and who-knows-what-number job.įor all these years of quick changes and rash decisions, which I once rationalized as adventurous, exploratory, and living an “original life,” I have nothing to show for it. My most hopeful and longest lasting relationship (three and a half years, whoopee) ended two years ago. I was also the poster child for serial monogamy. My 20s and early 30s have been a twisting crisscross of moves all over the West Coast, a couple of brief stints abroad, multiple jobs in a mediocre role with no real upward track. I’m a 35-year-old woman, and I have nothing to show for it. Photo: White Fox/AGF/UIG via Getty Images
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