Do you ever wonder about life like Carrie Bradshaw, dream to look like Mortitia Addams, fear like Stephen King, and love like Jane Austin? What happens when all of the aspects of your life collide and clash like a fatal land slide?
Akin to most people with ADD, the endless hobby hopping is one thing, but what about the deep aspects of your life? What happens when you are the ‘spooky, vegan, queer, intelligent, navy wife’?
I feel pulled in so many directions; one may think of a good ol’ medieval horse-drawn quartering. Though the thought of only keeping one of the aspects that make me ‘me’, gives me a cold shiver, and not in a good way. So, what is there to do?
If you find out, please, let me know. I feel like a carny on their first day juggling flaming spikes. However, when I think about it, is it a bad thing to feel unique? To have so many areas of adoration and aesthetic? In the moment I don’t think it to be true, but at times, it does feel exhausting.
The other day, I was begrudgingly looking for a new pair of shorts as the heat will not let up in what was meant to be my oasis of dark and stormy, when I had this thought. I went from H & M to Hot Topic in search of new wardrobe items, while looking like a modern-day Elvira. I felt like the equivalent of a gothic housewife, spending her days away shopping while her husband was away.
Yes, I found the shorts I wanted and a new corset, but I couldn’t help the sinking feeling of wondering if I knew who I was. I walked to my car, with the thought of identity hanging like a dark cloud above my head.
Once home and changed into my pajamas (black shorts and a slipknot shirt) I did what every sad woman in the early 2000s did. I sat on my couch with my cat, drinking moscato watching Sex and the City. All the gawkers of the day saw a dark and scary person with resting bitch face and here I was emotionally wrecked watching fictional, rich, white women complain about their lives.
All the sides of myself intersect most when listening to Lorne Shore, in my arm chair, reading love affairs in Homer’s Odyssey, eating my vegan yogurt, while hearing Taps go off outside my window. These moments leave a time of deep reflection. Maybe I know who I am, but have been looking for the validation of seeing others like me. We all look for the pattern of familiarity in life, is it any wonder that we feel lost when we fail to find it?
I know what I like and dislike, what I want for myself, and a rough plan of how to get there, but I knew for certain, I was not one those bitchy women. And thank the gods.
Who else is having a quarter-life identity crisis?
Write. Read. Repeat. 
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