What Do You Want To Do?

“What do you want to do?”, they ask. What do you want me to do? I’m stuck, you’re stuck, my future is stuck. Tell me how I can unstick this play button, so worn and tired from the constant go, go, go;

quick! apply for jobs, write this essay, this one too; have friends, stay thin, go out, find love, not so fast! think about your future, your friends are all applying for jobs, well you might have left it too late, watch out! it’s another deadline, don’t burn out, stay happy, sleep properly, insomnia? too bad, no such thing as extra time in real life, an essay extension here, a quick pause to catch your breath, don’t kid yourself sweetie! you have to keep up, keep running, lunging, jumping, to stay in competition with your friends, they’re not really your friends when you’re all after the same thing: money, job, love, success; time’s up.

before you can blink you’ve missed your slot, over to the other early twenties recent graduates ready with beaming smiles and sparkling CV’s; minds, teeth, smiles, rearing and ready to snap the thread you thought you held, clinging on, that special spot you thought you filled, that special trait that makes me, well, me.

What do you want to do? It’s not that simple. I know I like things, I like feelings, sensations; I love people, fleeting emotions, serious ones too; I relish the deep, daring thoughts that make me feel clever, different, worthwhile.

I want to write, smile, eat, enjoy, live, kiss, explore, breathe, laugh, embrace, drink beers in the sun and dip my toes in the sea, feel youth radiate from my pores and not worry about where I need to be.

What do you want to do? Interesting, I suppose I wouldn’t be in this situation if I knew. What do you want to do? Apply for jobs, ha! Well it’s easy for you.

You’re older than me, you’ve felt the reassurance of a pay-check giving your bank account its warm monthly hug, dissolve your fears of ending up a failure, unemployable, impossible, out of the race, stale as a discarded chunk of bread that ended up on the floor, next to the table, jumped off the table and out of interest, wasted and unappreciated. Totally, fatally, forgotten.

Am I running out of time? Is that what you’re telling me? Am I being shoved out of the slot before I can even update my CV? Give me a break, we’re all stuck inside, aren’t we? Well why should I worry more than the next? You’re taking the life out of me!

What do you want to do? No. This time, this chance we have to stop the race, I get to ask the question inside of me. The one part of my future that’s certain; how about: what sort of person do you want to be?