Out of Time


I’m having one of those mornings where you’ve woken up feeling as if you’ve forgotten to do something very important and so you start to panic a bit while trying to remember what it was you’ve forgotten. This happened to me a lot while I was in school. I’d have a paper due that I’ve known about for months. I put the pro in procrastination, so I always waited until the night before to begin the assignment. But as I typed, my brain would start failing and after one paragraph, I’d feel like giving up and going to bed. Sometimes I would work through it while other times I would put it off for a few more hours, thus resulting in awakening in a frenzy thinking oh my fucking god! I have to finish this paper in five minutes! Why the fuck did I do this?!, swearing that it will never happen again, knowing that it will.
But today, that 10 page research paper is a symbol of my life. I woke up feeling like I forgot to do everything I was supposed to do in order to be the successful, responsible adult that I should be in the next five years. I’m back to working with children, which I love, but there’s so much more I have to do to make it a career. While in school, I didn’t even know if I wanted to make it one at all. All I’ve known for so long is that I want to write. It’s all I’ve ever been sure of. But today, that romanticized feeling of being a struggling artist is not as comforting as tumblr makes it look. Sure, JK Rowling was homeless when she started writing the epicness that is The Harry Potter series. But who really wants to be homeless?
I know that there are plenty of people that have a passion but never make anything if it and I’m afraid to be one of them because I’ve taken too long in preparing for it. I feel as though I missed so many opportunities thinking that I had time. And now I’m starting to feel as though I don’t have it anymore. In a perfect world, I’d have no loans to pay back, no bills to cover, every time I eat a buffalo chicken slice from Benny’s on Hillside Ave I would lose 5 pounds and Beyoncé would be my best friend. But sadly, that’s only the title of a Keri Hilson album and not my reality. I don’t live in a perfect world. I have financial obligations. My love of pizza only leaves me with love handles instead of a Victoria’s Secret Angel figure and I can’t even score tickets to The Mrs. Carter World Tour. So how am I supposed to get my shit together by age 30?!
Yeah, I’m only 23 but I feel like I was 18 two seconds ago. What if I never get it together? What if I end up having to settle on Mediocre Island just to avoid the S.S Noniie sinking to the bottom of life’s ocean after being tossed around by waves that are 600 stories high and being attacked by those vicious monsters that lurk down below called Responsibilities. I’m seasick just thinking about it.
I feel like Princess Jasmine in the scene where Jafar has trapped her in that giant hour glass. But I don’t have an Aladdin to break me out. Where’s a giant sword when you need one? I’ve got to rescue myself but I don’t even know where to begin. I just know that the sand is rising and I’m feeling stuck.
Am I freaking myself out for no reason? I hope so. I also hope that I’ll have a major accomplishment under my belt soon so that I don’t continue to feel like I’m behind the curve.

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