People exhaust me. This probably doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone, but it’s important to get that out of the way, because it really sets the tone for this blog post.
Another important note to begin this post with: I am not a child. I am thirty-years-old.
You wouldn’t be able to tell on paper, of course. I’m unemployed. I’m in school. I live with my mother. I don’t/can’t/won’t drive. On paper, someone might guess I’m in my mid- to late-teens. That’s probably a fair assumption. It’s certainly an apt reflection of my current life situation.
It’s not as though I’m just sitting idly in my lament. I’m looking for a job. I’m learning to drive. I’m planning my transfer to University to get my bachelor’s degree, start my career, get my own place, and get on with my damn life. It’s just that jobs in San Diego are scarce (jobs I’m actually qualified for are scarcer) and I haven’t quite reached those goals, yet.
Not being quite there yet, however, does not change the fact that I am still thirty-years-old.
And as such, I am very, very tired of people treating me like I am still a teenager. Or a sociopath. If there’s a difference. Continue reading “The more you tell me not to rage, the more I want to actually rage.”