waiting for 2024
'and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?'
One of my college best friends used to say "[insert next year] is going to be my year" whenever things went wrong. I know she meant it facetiously, but it still always struck me as silly to pin hopes onto arbitrary signposts like that. Why wait for a new year to make resolutions? That said, I cannot wait for 2023 to end.
I spent Halloween week this year inside applying for unemployment and responding to an pen pal's email from last November. Only a year has passed since, but I can scarcely believe how much has changed since I first read that email. In it, she asks me about my relationship and job, both things I've lost this year, along with two close friends. I don't know how to put into words just how much this year has taken out of me. I've aged decades in mere months.
I wish I could finally say I'm taking advantage of the freedom I once dreamt of having. I'm free, after all: free of my toxic manager, flights before dawn, and neverending meetings. But I'm afraid all this freedom's wasted on me. I can't travel or enjoy myself, because I feel guilty I don't work. I can't even sleep, because my brain goes into overdrive every time I try. Where'd it all go wrong? How much deeper do I have to fall?
I wait for 2024 as if it were the next Powerball number: I know it won't change a damn thing about my life, but it's the last glimmer of hope left to cling onto.