Someone just mentioned something from the Friendly Giant in the Secret Forums, and I could see the show in my mind again. I loved that show.
It kind of hit me strangely the other day, sitting in the car with mom as we were driving somewhere to go shopping (it seems that’s all I do here in Vancouver…) I’m twenty-four. It’s not that I feel old, or anything like that. It’s just that I remember being nineteen and looking at my 24 year-old sister, thinking that she was so together… she knew what she was doing, and she was going somewhere and had plans and ideas and freedom. I envied her knowing what she wanted. I envied her going for it. I didn’t really know her then, and I still don’t know her now. We never were close.
It was strange, though, for me to realize that I am 24. I’m as old now as she was when I thought she had it all figured out. I’m as old now as my mother was when she already had my older brother. I’m twenty-four, and I thought I would know what I wanted from life by now. I know that some people don’t figure it out til they’re fifty, and some people know when they’re six. That doesn’t make me feel any better.
I haven’t written a poem in a year. I haven’t written an article in six months. I haven’t written any prose in about that long, either.
But hey, I’m good at sitting here and looking cute, so that should make me feel better.
I wanted to bge a psychologist once. I wanted to listen to people and help them understand why they feel the way they do. I wanted to help people. At the time I only wanted to help people so that I could avoid dealing with myself. Once I figured that part of it out, I decided that going into psychotherapy was a bad idea for me at the time. I haven’t thought about it much since, because I’m still messed up and I’m not really able to help anyone else the way I am now.