Sixteen years in the cracked skin sun
Spewing out curses and pointing a gun
Red dust on her cuffs and flies up her nose
High from the bong made with the garden hose
Sick of heat an’ rust an’ burnt up grass
Good for nothing Father and his lazy ass
Drunken Mother who’s hardly at home
Nagging Nan never leaving her alone
Out there, everybody had a problem
The inability to leave the boredom
The subsequent irritation and regular abuse
Hitting the casino and hitting the booze
The cycle went on like the summer months
Despite her hopes and nightly stunts
Sneaking out to fade like the moon
Only to be caught like a stray and beaten til noon
She sent a reckless bullet to a cawing crow
That took off laughing at her hardened face below
Unsure if she intended it to die
Or just wanted to see it flee to the sky
I haven’t posted anything new recently because Uni has started up again and that oh so familiar cortisol kicks in and it feels like you’re trying to walk around balancing books on your head that keep falling and crushing your feet. Why is it that when things get so stressful that, instead of dealing with your problems, sometimes you ignore them until they become so big and ugly it’s impossible to ignore them anymore. I want to know why some of us just don’t seem to have that frustratingly perfect gene that allows some of us to get ahead with their work, finish it early and submit it with sickeningly sweet smile.
Sometimes I wonder why I go to Uni…the whole point is to help set myself up for a good future right? Even though what I’m studying I mostly get tutors saying: “This field is extremely competitive…”, “Finding work is going to be very hard…”, “You’re going to have to move to Melbourne if you want any sort of chance at getting a job.” Not to mention the horrible looks of pity on peoples faces when I tell them what I study and the classic line: “Will that lead to much?” Basically, from the reactions I’m getting, this really isn’t going to help me much at all. The future looks bleak.
I want what everyone wants: to live a happy life. It’s just hard figuring out what makes you happy and if you can make it happen in comparison in what society deems as normal. Right now, a good weekend for me is getting take-away and watching some TV with my boyfriend. Yes, I want to travel, go out for lunches and shop, so that means I will need money…and to get money means working a 9-5 job. If I’m spending my life working this 9-5 job I hate, it means the majority of life won’t be fun or happy. That’s our ‘lot’. Life isn’t always fun. It’s complicated and we made it that way, otherwise we’d be killing each other basic things like food, water, and shelter…Wait…in a way…aren’t we still doing that?
I apologise for the vant (vent/rant). This is my form of therapy. Hey, it’s either this or slapping people in the face, and hopefully this is a little more bearable. I will have a glass of wine and cheers to you for making it through. 🙂