My life got full so much quicker when I was small. It took a lot less. My day felt heavy when I was learning that a peninsula was a stretch of land with water on three sides of it and choosing to sit near my male classmates in hopes that one of them might bring up the rarely exhaustible topic of boobs.
It might be greed... or boredom, I don't know. Maybe it's just that my body is physically larger now, but it takes a lot longer to fill. Days melt together and are smeared with other distractions. It's a lot of pressure to have a good time before life fires stress-missiles up all of our defenseless assholes.
We all desire to be the sole survivor of a crippling shitstorm of commercialism. We all desire to be the martyr of this Applebees. But beyond the moral high-grounds of the mozzarella sticks is an exceedingly minimalist realization: that you have all you need simply because it's all that you have. While some may chalk this one up to confirmation bias, strive to experience the moment where what you have is enough. And focus on your work ethic and your attitude and your fucking daily water intake. I mean shit, in the grand scheme of things, $8.75 an hour is devoid of glamour but enshrined in importance. So what? So what. If you can no longer stand writing about depression or sobriety or... um, the seemingly cyclical nature of family secrets, than write about a dog you saw that day. Worldly significance is an illusion because the only mind through which you can interpret it is your own. So make it matter to yourself... that's it. You're all you have.
And then, when it's over, thirst again. For boobs. Or mozzarella sticks.
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