I have done nothing but worked for my entire young adult life.
At age 16 I graduated early and started a fulltime job at taco bell to save money. I wanted to go on a roadtrip around the united states. I wanted to write story's and paint the world before I found a place I wanted to stay at and build my life. I wanted to build a life of love and adventure. I wanted to paint a world of brilliance, I wanted to draw the moon and the sun entangled in cosmic dance of hope.
I wanted to create.
Eager to explore the world at 17 I left home due to an abusive environment and moved in with my partner. But the stale reality hit.
The money I saved prior quickly vanished with rent and cost of living. I started new jobs. Working for 5 months at each trying to feel my way through. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to build a life for art and creating. But the cost of everything wouldn't allow me to. I created art in the meantime. All I needed was a chance. An opening shot to find a way to move forward. I drew what i felt, i drew the stress of life and the beauty I could find. When my jobs were slow. When I had a moment of time I would create. I wanted to create
At 20 I had a psychotic break. My past trauma caught up with me and I lost my mind for 2 years. I was living in a hell of my past and future. The stark reality of time ushering forward and the chances for my dreams were fading. Life had become centered around money. Every 2 weeks were a brief checkpoint. Every paycheck i gained a breathe of fleeting air. I was forced to work during the hardest point in my life of pychosis. I could never hold a job for more than a month. But me and my partner couldn't survive without us both working. We were always on the verge of homelessness. My life, my relasonship and my world had become nothing but a series of 2 week intervals. But still through the cracks in chaos I found a way to create. I would draw my anger, i would paint my fears and write my dreams. I wanted to create.
I'm 23. Recovering from the past, I have no future. I find myself working in a lifeless office. I've been here for 9 months. Today ny partner asked If I loved him anymore. I thought it was a strange thing to bring up because I do. He told me his worries, that I don't love him. Because my daily routine now consist of working and sleeping. I assured him of my love and we talked. We talked about the past. We talked about his future. He talked about me, and a realization for the past year came to light. I am dead. The realization came from an untouched sketchbook. I haven't drawn for 9 months. I have to work to make sure my partner and I don't go homeless. So we don't starve. So we can't keep above the rising cost. Today a final piece has broken in me. I am 23. And I have not lived. The last 7 years, when I am supposed to be young and free and happy. This was all stolen from me.
My entire fucking life has been stolen from me.
I am 23 years old. And I have not seen any of my youth. I have no explored the earth. I have not felt the sting life and the rush of color in my viens.
This isn't fair. This isn't fun. This isn't life.
I work to fulfill another person's goals. Of someone who I will never meet.
They don't know my name. They don't know the pain and trails I went through just to get here.
But they stole my life. My youth and my freedom.
And they don't even know that I am 23 years old and that I loved creating art.
They don't know that I cried when watching sappy movies and that I dreamed of laying in a field on a sunny day and drawing the clouds. And that I only dreamed of it because I am not free. That I am 23 years old. And I am chained to working in a office to pay rent so I can't work the next day.
They will never know that I left my home to be free just to fall into a new trap.
They will never know my favorite flavor or favorite song, or that when I was 5 years old I broke my arm trying to climb a tree to see the world.
They will never know that all that. All of those feelings. They have snuffed out the life from it.
I am 23 and my favorite color was purple.
I loved my partner. And today he realized that I have been dead for the past 9 months.
I do not want to create.