Early morning

I, like many others am indeed an insomniac without a cause. I don’t have a complicated health issue or underlying nightmare-based fuel for staying up for days yet if allowed I will. During these early hours, many things cross over my mind from every direction including self image and worth.

I’m twenty-three years old, I realize how short of a time that is in the retrospect view but more realistically is it so short? I work an entry level customer driven position with no benefits, I have no degree, no majestic overseas hippie missionary stories and no money. I keep asking myself what am I doing with my life, and keep hearing I am not doing enough but ultimately all I hear is work.

Work for experience, work for a raise, work to prove your worth, work to get ahead, (though not reflective of my opinion of the Rihanna radio single) I hate this repetition.

Work work work work work work.

I don’t however hate the concept of working, what I hate is busy work. (Can’t you see I’m trying baby!)

Before writing this, I had a long honest talk with my girlfriend. Initially, She woke up at 1am, as I was considering laying down without an ounce of drowsiness and we talked until I started writing at 6am.

For five hours straight we discussed our journey through life; Experiences, Dreams, Hopes, present and present all accounted for. The major talking point however was our joined fear of conformation. The fear that the inevitable death of our twenties will reap our dreams and hunt us with images of more mundane and cookie cutter lives.

I told her, I’m afraid of being locked into being a part of the machine. Not living, not believing, just serving work as a religion

I am not nearly as foolish as I seem, I realize that I will not be forever young, that entry level craft and tireless hours are part of a game I joined at birth. However, what I seek is not to skip levels, but to instead know where the level starts and to find the actual measure in which I achieve.

I’m not a salty liberal bent on Mario jumping my way into a safe of gold coins. I’m a person who in all of my short life feels let down and ultimately inadequate.

When I ask, I hear I should work harder and be better, but by what standard am I consenting to this maze of capital and exhaustion?

What should I be working at? Where? Why? How?

Utterly defeated, we wrapped up our conversation and headed back to bed. Another day of questions for myself, and some well earned rest for her.

Until the cat woke her up again…