today i was just minding my business (read: disassociating in the car) when my very legally downloaded version of i’m not okay (i promise) by my chemical romance came on. and of course it had the full music video intro because apple music decided to personally attack me.
“you like D&D, audrey hepburn, fangoria, harry houdini, and croquet.
you can’t swim, you can’t dance, and you don’t know karate.
face it. you’re never gonna make it.”
first of all: rude.
second of all: unfortunately, correct.
like—hi, yes. i do like D&D. d20s and critical role marathons that emotionally wreck me? yes, please. audrey hepburn? absolutely. i studied breakfast at tiffany’s like it was a mood board for my future life (minus the cat- sorry I’m allergic). i had a secret fangoria phase.
my boyfriend hector? a literal magician. like. actually. so the harry houdini thing isn’t just ✨relatable✨ it’s my life. and i would one thousand percent attend a themed croquet picnic if someone handed me a flute of prosecco and a sun hat.
and no, i still can’t swim. or dance. and the closest i’ve gotten to knowing karate is watching two youtube tutorials, confidently trying a high kick in the kitchen, and immediately pulling something in my back.
so yeah. gerard way—your accuracy? devastating.
i had this whole thing in my head about how july was going to be a healing month. a reset. a soft girl summer.
i was going to journal and romanticize my life and go on barefoot walks at sunset and be hydrated and glowy and aligned or whatever.
but it’s july 1st
and i already want to crawl under the bed and live there.
i’m working full-time. i’m in school. i’m barely holding it together. and now there’s a chance hector—my magician boyfriend (yes, literal magician, no, i’m not joking)—might lose his job. his day job not the magic job. and suddenly i’m sitting here doing math i didn’t ask for, wondering if i need to drop out of school and find a second job so we don’t drown in bills and panic.
it’s a lot. and by “a lot” i mean i am one minor inconvenience away from dramatically sobbing in the 7-11 parking lot.
i don’t want to “make it” right now. i don’t want to optimize or overcome or whatever.
i just want to lay in bed, eat chipotle, listen to sad music from 2005, and stare at the ceiling like i’m in a coming-of-age film except the stakes are actually kind of high and there’s no quirky soundtrack montage to get me through this part.
i miss being 15. when my biggest responsibility was taking the chicken out of the freezer before my mom got home. when paying my $45 phone bill felt like the height of adulthood. when i thought having a job meant independence instead of chronic budgeting and grocery list spreadsheets and decision fatigue.
being an adult is just choosing between which stressor you want to prioritize today and hoping the others don’t explode while you’re not looking.
also: why does planning anything as an adult just mean “how much money will this cost and do i actually have it?”
like, remember when planning something meant “what time should i come over?” and now it’s like “do i have $30 to spare for socializing this week?” because if not, i guess i’m staying home with my intrusive thoughts and learning to make matcha lattes at home because I can’t afford the overpriced coffee shop by my job.
so yeah. it’s july 1st.
and if the rest of this month doesn’t chill out immediately, i simply will not survive it. that’s not a threat. that’s a hormone-soaked warning.
no moral. no silver lining. just vibes. and maybe a cry in the shower later.
