Endlessly Writing

Chapter One

The average life, something everyone is either running to or running from. It feels like this huge sign above my head, like in a game show. What will she choose, her time is slowly running out. The question of the century.

I have yet to figure out which one is the one for me. Because in some way I feel like the type of job you want to have some day is connected to the question, do I want to be able to predict my life or not. And when it comes to jobs, I know what I would do in a perfect world. But it isn't a perfect world, I need to be smart about this, otherwise it's going to bite me in the ass later on in life.

We all start with the average life as kids, with going to school and moving out of your parents' house to go to college, get a summer job at a local ice cream store or whatever. When you turn 18 or 19 you start thinking of the world as a place of endless possibilities, or so they say in the movies. It makes future either beautiful or terrifying. The number of things you can choose from or can experience. For me it was a mix of the two, because of the number of options I thought were lying in front of me, I became frozen in time unable to decide. Especially when I turned 22, the world that I once saw as options, were now becoming impossible to even think of. It was starting to feel like a weight that was never going to get any less. So, I decided that I wasn't going to choose until further notice. I am not sure what that notice might be, but hell maybe 'I'll know it when I see it.'

My dad always used to say it is better to make the smart option first and life the safe life. Because life is messy, and things always happen at inconvenient times. Which I ended up thinking was kind of hypocritical because he ended up moving to another continent on a whim.

He used to push me as a kid to do the best I could, according to his measures. I don't know exactly what this did to me, but as you might be able to imagine I was very insecure as a kid. And if you really can imagine, I am sorry.

My parents had a weird relationship, it was kind of very much unplanned. At least I was, but because of me they felt like they had to stay together. But is was just one time that they really agreed on something. Because a baby with divorced parents was just a disaster waiting to happen, they thought anyways. They were unhappy, for a really long time. I remember or my mum told me that some days when I was around 6 years old, that I would beg them to break up when they were fighting. And I didn't mean break up the fight, I literally told my dad that I wanted them to live apart, because I didn't want any more fights. Fortunately, after a while of little me telling them that, they actually took my advice. The first and last time they took my advice.

My mom for that matter has always loved the simple life, and you can tell it suits her. She doesn't need the extra fancy holiday or the most spacious house. She created a home and a routine that she loves. Maybe when I am older, I'll have that life too, but I want to be able to look back and know I did everything I loved. And loved who ever I wanted. To not have any regrets, but I now am regretting not doing anything at all. So, I think you can see where this puts me mentality. I am driving myself crazy but aren't we all in some way.

For now, until I figure it out, I'll keep serving coffee until that thing becomes old. Maybe someday I hear someone in the café talk about their job and think damn I want that. Unlikely.

This inner dialogue you just read, is something that happens in my mind at least once a week, typically on a Friday morning, when I yet again am serving coffee to one of the regulars, who at this point knows my name. I don't know his name, I tend to keep it this way, the way he looks at me kind of freaks me out. But that might just be because it's Friday and I hate anything on Friday.

On Friday the day seems endless, I keep looking at the clock, but it doesn't move in time. I swear some days I check if the batteries are still okay. They sadly have been until now. It was two in the afternoon and the lunch rush hour was just dying down. The only thing that hadn't changed in the past 4 years, is my job. I was still working at the café that I started at when I was going to school. I kept telling myself that it is a temp job. I don't know how long you can work somewhere before you can't call it a temp anymore. But whatever, it pays the bills. And it made sure I don't forget how annoying people can be.