Twenty-five means that I’m feeling even worse about my Life Situations, because now not only do I live in my moms’ basement, I’m 25-years-old and I live in my moms’ basement. You know?
But something is shifting, though I can’t tell yet if it’s for the better or towards the worst. I dropped out of Music School, mostly, and that was liberating for a time, but now what?
Now this: drinking on weeknights, watching movies from the 70s, running while listening to chamber music, reading on the bus, strolling the Avenues, lots of Bach, and something in me that has snapped, a string I pulled taut for years, silently ignoring the tension, until it just gives one day and I take a deep, gasping breath in and the air is so real that it shocks my lungs, plunges into my nervous system like adrenaline, telling me to jump. Stop caring, stop peering into the abyss, and just let go.
But no apartment yet, no. Thanks for asking.