Through hazy eyes
She saw the world
Not how it was
But how she thought it should be
She doesn’t remember
The moment it happened
She doesn’t remember
Through clear eyes
She sees the world
Exactly how it is
So you’re 30 years old, emphasis on the old. You’re not one of those “have your shit together” 30s either. No, you don’t have a mortgage, spouse, kid, career, or whatever the fuck they’re counting as ‘adult’ these days. I mean, hell, you don’t even have a goldfish, let alone a dog or cat. The thought of being responsible for another living thing terrifies the shit out of you. You lost your keys at least seven times last month alone. You’d tie your mittens to your coat if you didn’t fear being socially ostracized. It’s getting bad enough that the singles’ table at your friends’ weddings has turned into the kids’ table. You my friend, are an embarrassment. At least that’s what you are starting to believe about yourself. I am here to tell you that it’s all bullshit.
Ask yourself this: WHO THE FUCK CARES?
Maybe you had a life plan and it went awry. You had the guy or girl of your dreams, were on the right path career-wise and had your eye on that Siberian Husky litter down the street. Then your company was investigated by the OSC, your girlfriend/boyfriend left you for the bartender at your favourite pub, and the Siberian Husky puppies were all claimed. Suddenly you’re in the same spot that loser friend that never even finished university is in. What happened? Life happened. It’s shitty, but hey, you’re alive and still have time to turn it all around. Quit belly aching. You had it all once, who says you can’t have it all again? Look at Robert Downey Jr., everybody loves a good redemption story. Just don’t Lohan this shit. Plus that bartender will totally cheat and you’ll either get to be the supportive shoulder or laughing, judgmental finger pointer. It’s never quite as bad as it seems.
For those of us who never bothered with the life plan and still don’t know what the fuck we are doing, life isn’t all that bad either. We have the freedom to sit in our pyjamas and type idiotic advice blogs (while alternating between cutesy and creepy subreddits) until four in the afternoon. Some times people even read these things. I mean, your life must be pretty fucked up right now if you are taking anything away from this, but it could be worse. If you are reading this, you have access to the internet, so, I mean, yay porn, right?
I think I’ve lost the original intent of this post. I turned 30 and freaked out. I just wanted to swear a lot and pretend that everything will be okay. Truthfully, I actually kind of believe that. “The future is unwritten” as Joe Strummer would croon and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Thanks for reading and I apologize profusely for wasting your time. Please enjoy this Cyanide & Happiness comic.
My cousin Julie just shared on Facebook with us a poem our Grandmother had written for her Grandchildren (we were many). My Grandmother passed when I was just 7 or 8 and I haven’t got many memories left of her. What I do remember was always feeling safe, warm, and so very loved by her. Reading this today brought all those feelings flooding right back. I miss her even on days I don’t realize it.
Beloved child of mine
you are loved
I will never leave you
the darkness around you
will not destroy you
my weapons are of light
And nothing on earth
can penetrate your spirit.
You are mine.
Cadence sat alone on the floor. Situated in the corner of her room, legs pulled up into her chest, she rested her head on her knees and sobbed. She had no idea how she had gotten there or why she was crying. The only thing she knew in that moment was an overwhelming sense of sadness and that she had been here before. Nothing of any particular significance had happened that day. She woke up, went to school, ate lunch with her friends, answered three questions correctly in class, and stopped to chat with crossing guard on her way home. When she arrived home, she kissed her mother and father, patted her husky on his head and went upstairs to her room. It was only when she closed the door behind her that the weight of the world came crashing down on top of her. It was an unbearable weight that forced her to the ground. That was when she sought solace in the corner.
As she continued to sob, Cadence thought of every happy image that she could muster. She thought of her mother and father. She loved them more than anything in the world. She thought of the day her parents let her pick out Orwell, her husky. She thought of kissing Jessie Hopkins behind the Social Studies portable. She thought of her best friend Kyla. They’d done everything together and had never been in a fight. She thought of rainbows and kittens and warm woollen mittens, but nothing could stop her steady stream of tears. She was convinced that she was broken. She wanted to scream out for help but had no idea how to explain to anyone what was wrong. If she told her parents she was sad, they’d ask her why, and she would have no answer for them. She just was. She couldn’t handle someone telling her to “buck up” or that her life was wonderful. She knew her life was wonderful. That fact made her feel even worse for being sad. She scolded herself between each sob.
There was a knock at her door. Cadence ignored it at first hoping that the person on the other side would take the hint. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She had cancelled plans in the past to avoid the inevitable questions people would have if and when she began to cry uncontrollably. Most days she wouldn’t, but the days when she could feel it coming, she just wanted to be alone. There was a second knock and then a third. Cadence couldn’t move and she wasn’t sure she wanted to any way. There wasn’t a fourth knock. Cadence felt a small amount of relief but a larger feeling of regret crept in.
Ten minutes passed when a piece of paper slid beneath Cadence’s door. She looked over at it with an intense curiosity. It seemed as though her body was going to allow her to move just enough to pick it up. She slid herself out of the corner far enough to reach the note. She picked it up and read it.
“Our dearest Cadence,
You are not broken. We are here for you when you are ready to talk. We will ALWAYS be here for you.
Your loving, devoted, ADORING, parents.”
Cadence held the note tight to chest and closed her eyes and breathed. She wasn’t ready yet, but she had hope that she soon would be. The weight of the world was too much to bear for one person. She knew that now.