Caffein-high Ranting

I can't write. I have been trying. But these practicalities around me has been pushing my being inwards until I am just a crumpled remains of what I once was, of what I aspire to be, but having missed the window of opportunities to shine, the idea of who I want to become has ceased to exist.

I have been waiting for a giant sign. To tell me that everything will be just okay in the end if I dive headfirst, but when I pressed on, nobody steps forward to guarantee that I won't smash my head on the rocks, cracking my skull open, that I won't drown, pulled into the abyss of unknown.

People talk and talk like they have lived a thousand years. It takes up all the energy stored up in every cell of my being to just smile and not scream profanities at these people. These people who have never left the comfort of their middle class life, who went to bed everyday with their partner that they have long fallen out of love with, whose sense of wonder has been stunted by the mediocrity of the life they have chosen.

I want to run away with the lover of my life, and our lovechild to someplace where only the three of us exists, where we can live wihtout the constraint of others' expectations of us. Where we can bathe in the warmth of the sun, with sand beneath our feet, and adventure spread before us.

I hate the tone that this piece of writing is going. It sounds too negative, no?

They say it's never too late to start over - I believe that. Do I?

I think I need to move forward faster, before the life, as others imagined and willed for us to live, engulfed us, like smoke, until we become programmed robots, dejected and settled, having forgotten the Utopian life that once seemed possible, like Winston and Julia in Orwell's 1984.

I want to be able to look into my daughter's eyes and tell her that she can be whatever she dreams of, with conviction.