As I chew this garlic bagel with cream cheese as a substitute to my preferred plain, purchased with the five dollar bill I had forgotten was in the pocket of an old jean jacket, I can't help but marvel at how incredibly stuck I am. Stuck in the sense that my privileged, suburban teenage life is going absolutely nowhere; at least not in any sense that matters.
Today I headed over to one of the local supermarkets in our lovely bubble of a town in the hopes of getting hired. While I sat on the bench near the entrance, waiting for the manager to return from the bank, my worst demon, Mr. Social Anxiety, crept his way into my mind and before I knew it, I was out the automatic doors and on my way home. A sense of defeat gnawed at my core as I walked past landmarks that have become a part of who I am, and I grew more and more frustrated at my incapability to get a move on with my life. Whether it was the fear of rejection, or that of failure, or the overall feeling that no one would ever want or like me, even for a job, I just couldn't will myself to stay on that silly bench.
I know that I've grown a lot lately, and that I should give myself credit for that, but it always seems to be in ways that I want, rather than in ways that I need. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, but my alleged growth has done nothing to help me in terms of practicality. I can definitely say that I am remarkably more emotionally stable now that I was months ago. I'm proud of how often I've been writing lately, testing out different styles and exploring new techniques left and right. I've found a sense of identity and have solidified my beliefs and voiced out my opinions, namely about the importance of feminism, in the hopes that I can make people more aware. I'm grateful to have been granted an editorial internship with the help of my principal; an opportunity I wouldn't be able to have otherwise.
Yet, despite all of this, the reality of it is that I'm tired of being Daddy's Little Girl, a spoiled brat, a privileged rich kid, and any other title that comes with the part. I loathe and am extremely embarrassed about the fact that I am still driven places, and that my main source of money is my father's wallet. The degree of my dependency is absolutely humiliating, and must so desperately come to an end. But every time I try, someone else always seems to swoop in, leaving me empty handed and rejected. I often wonder if these are the doings of the universe and if I'm trapped in a never ending karmic cycle with no way out, but I guess that's up to the Fates to decide.
What boggles me the most is the level of ease at which other people my age seem to be able to attain these simple desires, and still have the audacity to complain about employment, a salary, transportation, and overall independence. God only knows how much I want all of those things: to be able to have my own money, to be able to drive myself places, and overall, to have a sense of control, and rid myself of this feeling of complete and utter inadequacy. I've been given a lot of big breaks and opportunities that some can only ever dream about, and for that I am grateful; but it's the mundane things that seem to be ever so slightly out of my reach, and I'm left with more questions than answers as to why.
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