quarter life crisis.
“Something’s missing,” sings the great John Mayer on his album Heavier Things. It’s a song that more and more I continue to relate to. Back a few years ago, I was a fan of the track but more so because I loved the melodies and passion in it.
Things have changed in my more recent years. I feel I now know exactly what he’s talking about.
I don’t have any right to complain about my “miserable” life at the moment. Weighing the positives vs negatives, I finally landed a job I actually love and am making a somewhat decent salary for a person my age and with my experience. So nothing wrong there.
What else, I have plenty, plenty, and more than plenty of friends. Always something to do or somebody to hang out with.
Family. They are extremely supportive and always there for me. There’s never been a moment where I felt like I needed my mom, dad or brother and they weren’t there for me. Can’t complain there.
Spirituality/religion…I guess there I really have none. Kind of lost my connection with the god I was raised to have faith in a LONG time ago. That doesn’t really bother me though.
Living situation. I live in San Francisco, the best fucking city in America.
The list goes on…so what it is it really? I can’t exactly put my finger on it but I think I’m getting closer to figuring out what it is that is missing from my life. It’s really quite weird, just a few months ago, I anxiously awaited the moment I was free from work. Now a days, I anxiously await going to work and dread the moment when I come home. It’s not that I don’t like my my living situation/roommate/apartment…I think it’s the fact that I don’t really have a role or purpose when I get home.
I don’t have a family (like kids or wife). I don’t have a girlfriend (nor do I really want one until I find myself/and find the right person for me). I don’t have a pet or anything to take care of.
Maybe I’m just not happy with myself? Or maybe I’m just not happy with being by myself? At the same time, I like these moments where I can write and sip on a brew, or I can read and listen to music and not give a fuck.
So that’s where the big question comes. What the fuck is life all about? Is this it? Work, eat, sleep, shit, fuck.
Maybe I need to travel for a bit…
question mark.
