Brilliant Mind, Total Fuckup

I wish I was older.
I wish I could skip over high school altogether.
I understand that it helps a person grow, but I’m so done.
I’m so done with all the angst and drama.
I’m so done with the pressure and expectations of success.
I wish that I could sleep at night.
I wish life was easy.
I wish I could jump through time and be in my comfortable house with my coffee and routine.
I wish I already had my job.
I wish I already had my career.
I wish I knew what my future was going to look like.
I wish I didn’t feel guilt about being sad.
I deserve to be sad though, because being sad is part of being happy.
I suppose being sad is the reason one feels happiness so hard and so fully.
I wish that wasn’t the case.
I wish I could be happy without knowing what sadness feels like.
I wish I didn’t have to go through the rough patches in life to get to smooth ground.
I know these wishes are stupid, and cliché, and impossible.
Isn’t that was wishes are for?

You ever have those days when you’re just unhappy? Not for any particular reason, but just because you feel like maybe you’ve been too happy for too long and it just feels right to be sad for a little bit. I do. Those days are bullshit. I suppose it’s mostly teen angst, I fucking hope it is. I hope that by the time my hormones even out these ”sadays” will seldom appear, and on the off chance they do, I’ll be able to chalk it up to stress at work or a midlife crisis.

Truth be told, I think teenage hood is its own life crisis. We could call it earlylife crisis. It doesn’t have the same ring to it as midlife, and also it’s not auto correcting to anything useful. It’s just sitting there with a little squiggly red line underneath like a big “fuck you, that’s wrong.” It doesn’t even give me the blue line. At least the blue squiggly line is positive. It’s like “Hey bro, I can tell you’re trying but you fucked up a little here. Did you mean such and such?”.

If the colors of auto correct were similes for parental figures I think the red one would be the father. See, you appreciate that it’s there because it’s like the final resort. When you’ve truly fucked up you can always go to good old red line and he’ll tell you how to fix it right up. But, like a father, he’ll do it in such a way as to humiliate you and bluntly tell you that what you’ve done is wrong and make you feel shitty about fucking up in the first place. So - ultimately - you enjoy that he’s there as a sort of fail safe, but at the same time seeing less of him is good.

The blue squiggly line is the mother. It’s caring, it’s nurturing. It takes what you already have and it just adds that final touch that pulls your thoughts together. You don’t feel like a dick when the blue line calls you on your shit. You don’t feel like you’re a giant fuck up, or that your really dumb. With the blue line, you can just shake your head and think, “Oh, silly me” and easily correct whatever it is you’ve done wrong.

When I write, I don’t often come across the green squiggly line. I’m pretty sure it exists though because I recall that there’s another line and I’m guessing it’s green because it seems like the auto correct family has a habit of choosing prime colors. I guess, because I don’t see this green squiggly line that much, I’m going to say it’s the really rich cousin. You know, the one that has some successful job somewhere exotic. You only really see the green line at special occasions like Christmas and Thanksgiving and that’s only if he doesn’t have to spend it with his gold digging, fake boobed, bleach blond, ridiculously hot wife’s in laws, a-hur-hur. The green squiggly line is rare to see and often absent from your life, but if ever you needed something, some advice about life and such, you could always drop him a line. On top of that, because he’s so successful, he’ll also give really good advice because he’s made his mistakes already, and came out of them on top.

I’m sure there’s another one. Actually, that’s a lie. I lied to you. I’m not sure there’s another one, in fact, the only real reason I even put that first sentence in is because if there is another one I don’t want to one day stumble upon it and feel like I let it down by not adding it into my auto correct family. I was going to say something along the lines of it’s probably ”the creepy uncle” or ”the gay aunt” or one of those generic stereotypes that tend to be in the stereotypical common extended family. Truth is, I have nothing to work off. All I know is that it could be out there, and it could be a pink squiggly line or another colored strait line. It’s really potato potato. Get it?  

Look at this shit. I’m so out of it I didn’t even stay on the topic of being depressed.

That’s cool.