No, that's wrong. It's going on two months now.
Really, I suppose it's my fault. Something happened where I just wasn't happy anymore. With anything. Not my job, not my apartment, not my friends. And so like usual I just packed up and left.
If I look back over the last three years I've done that a lot. I always wondered why I've spend the majority of the time moving and the answer isn't that difficult to figure out. I've turned running away from my problems into an art.
And so now I'm living at home, with no job and not going to school.
Yeah, this is exactly where I wanted to be at 23 years old........
How did I get here. What chain of events led me to this, what could I have done? Am I really just that unproductive or lazy, or scared?
I'm willing to bet on the scared end of the stick.
There is something about asking for help that scares the crap out of me, always has. I'd rather not do something than run the risk of someone turning me down. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot.
I have all of these dreams and ambitions and hopes and desires and I can't make myself take the first step towards any of them.
I am my own worst enemy.
