Gypsy of Life

Not sure whether to stick around and sort things through, or pack up my things and move on to the next destination. I find myself standing outside of life while others run around like mice in an never-ending maze trying to beat the clock for God knows what reason. What is the rush about, and where are we all trying to accomplish in the end?

Since I have last written, more than half the people in and around my age bracket have either had a child, discovered they had a child or adopted one into their care. Whether they choose to take up the responsibility or not, the inevitable drift has started to pull us in opposite directions: them drifting towards responsibility I can only read about and watch from a distance, and me surrendering to the waves of Bachlorette-Hood.

It used to be that we all were focused on getting to the same finish line: University.

Since then, the ones that made it past the hurdles and through the tape have almost all retired. Getting through the first degree was hard enough, first year was like running through a forest at night with bullets flying in the air and the ground pregnant laden with grenades. By the time I opened my eyes and looked around me, scared and suddenly very aware of my surroundings, only half my colleagues had managed to make it into the first clearing. Acknowledging we made it this far should have brought us together, instead it formed protective bubbles around us. Lightly bouncing off each other when coming into contact, the intimacy we once shared shattered forever.

As if these trust issues born over night were not bad enough, the final year at University brought back Life's knife of natural selection to weed out her garden once more. Those who never made it on to the graduation lists fell off the Popsicle of education like flies dying from an electric blue light. They didn't stand a chance, the fact that they made it through the suicidal forest meant nothing, they could not cheat her again. This time, she caught them. Like the grim reaper back to collect his dues, it was only a matter of time.

I packed up my bags, walked into the airport and didn't even look back.

Life rushed in and set me up once again. A fresh start, a second chance at beating this things called Society's Expectations. Registered myself back in class, tucked my experience and past enlightenment securely in a box and put it under my bed: this was My Life (Part II).

Somehow the pressures from Part I seeped into Part II. Perhaps I'm done moving through the crowd with my wings tightly taped to my back. Perhaps I'm done sitting through endless meaningless conversations, listening to manipulative bitches talk their way through hearts time and time again. Perhaps I've reached my limit of absorbing the bullshit that comes with immature friendships and jealous wanna-be-you girls lost in their own battles of insecurity.

I have come to accept that my goals in life differ entirely from the type of friend's that I make. I have gotten over the fact that I am no longer the baby in the group, who's intentions will not be questioned.

"People are going to talk about you today, tomorrow- just as they were yesterday."

High school drama is only magnified at University Level...I am learning to recognize the fact that my Gypsy tendencies provide only temporary relief from the inevitable.

Whether or not they intend to hurt me, the fact remains that adulthood is very much lonely. People grow up to be different people, with different ideas of how the world should be. Trust is so key, yet so hard to really just give to any person that walks up to you and smiles.

In the mean time, I'll sit right here with my memories of what things were like before the crushes settled in, before we got to fucking and starting families without any real sort of direction. I'll keep in mind the days that we had when looking pretty and maintaining reputations were something of the distant future we could not even speculate about.

For now, I'll keep walking into that horizon, refusing to be rushed by the social waves of pressure. Walking with my aspirations intact, my dignity in my left butt pocket and my pride slung over my right shoulder. I'm a gypsy, the question is: are you coming with me?