I had a bit of a quarter life crisis last night. I stumbled around the online profiles of people who I knew in high school but I have since lost track of them. I assumed they got to the same place everyone else did, like I did. They should all be off working dull jobs to pay the bills and dreaming about something greater. I am.
But they’re not. Not all of them at least. Some are fashion models, others actors and radio and TV personalities. Others became artists in different ways. They’re all doing things with their lives and I couldn’t help but think, why not me?
That sounds selfish, but I was set up to think this. By them. I was digging through my closet recently when I came across my senior yearbook. I had completely forgotten that I was voted as the “Most Artistic” and “The Next Spielberg”. Rightly so. I had won a few small film festivals with some movies I made in high school. What happened to that?
I didn’t go on to make films. I went on to write but I haven’t written. I went on to be a good person, but now I’m stuck in a place where it isn’t recognized. It’s a painful thought. I wanted to be the successful and happy one, but right now, they are.
It’s not uncommon either. I think of the other people who were voted most likely this and most likely that and they all seem to be in the same kind of jobs as me. The stable and soul sucking jobs. While I can’t speak for them, but I’m not happy with it. I like the stability for now, but I have an itch to jump ship every waking moment. I want to lose myself in an artistic pursuit just so see if I can swim. If I fail, I’ll join the grind again. I’m jealous of all the ones who were most likely nothing. They’re the ones who got to he happy.