However, as I don't think it's far to expect the Tweed Shire council to scrape my remains off a suburban road (or indeed do anything at all except conduct roadworks in the wrong places), I will repress my self-destructive tendencies and try to handle things like a person who isn't being driven half-mad by this appalling heat. Fuck you, Australia. Your country is so hot, they had to use a whole new colour to record temperature readings for your centre. It's ridiculous, you should behave more like your charming mother country and be subjected to wind, rain and hail 9 months of the year. Or like your brother Canada, and be covered in snow and moose. Anyway, back to moving.
I am not sure what other people have experienced with moving out, but I assume most people are able to outsource help from various family members and trusted adult figures. I mean, most of you would have parents who'd only be too happy to sit down with you and tell you what on earth all these stupid, needlessly bureacratic forms mean. An added part of my stress regrettably comes from the fact that the parent I currently reside with couldn't possibly be taking any less interest in what I'm doing. In fact, because of the negative atmosphere permeating my current residence, I have considered vacating early and couch-hopping until I have somewhere to live... providing of course, that I don't take advantage of the hospitality of my friends. I mean, I do have a perfectly good car to live out of, and now I regret writing that because it'll undoubtedly cause a mass panic and I'll have to get on my podium and explain that me living out of my car is indeed a joke. Being perfectly honest though, I have begun Operation Go Home As Little As Possible today. There is a yellow backpack in my car with enough essentials to last me a few days before I have to think about doing some laundry. I've taken all my important documents so I can sort this moving out thing on the go. This all sounds pretty silly and childish, I know, but without me explaining finer details that probably don't belong on the public forum of the internet, you won't understand why I don't want to be at my home any more. Besides, to be very brutally honest, it's not my "home". It's the place I go to sleep occasionally. I sometimes manage to feed myself there (read: not often). I keep my stuff that won't fit in my car there. That's about it.
The worst thing about moving out, I'm finding, is it makes you feel quite small and useless. Usually, I love to brag about how confident I feel about being part of the adult world (read: porn industry. Just kidding. Hopefully I'm not naked on the internet somewhere) and my ability to handle most of what is thrown at me. But when you're dealing with feeling totally out of your depth all of the time, while knowing you're being pitted against numerous people who have way more of an idea of how things work than you do, and realising that most of the time, you can try your hardest and see no results... I get scared. I feel like exactly what I am- a financially dependent kid with no real life experience other than knowing how to cook, clean and wash my own clothes. And I hate that, because I want to skip the hard stuff and just be a cool, indepedent uni student as soon as possible. I hate it, because I have no idea where to start asking for help or if I'll even get any. Asking for help in itself is a problem for me because I a) have an engorged sense of pride and b) never want to inconvinience others with my meaningless, insecure bullshit. So no matter exhausted and strained I get, I will continue to try and mask it behind a veil of dry wit, because it's the only way I know how to deal with these harsh periods of life. It could be so much worse, I acknowledge this. I acknowledge this and I try to deal with it as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, sometimes my methods of dealing with these sorts of things is to cut myself off from others and become incredibly self absorbed. So, I apologise for not being the best human being I can be at the moment. It's shitty, it's selfish, but I need to focus on meeting my own needs right now. When I do, I can open myself up again.
It's times like this where I wish I could let go of my pride and just admit that I wish I could be looked after and babied for the rest of my life. When I daydream, it's frequently about being brought up in a nice, standard middle class family, because honestly, those who are in them have no idea how much support and stability they get. No family is perfect, but there's a distinct difference between the occasional argument with your parents and the fear of having nowhere to live and being utterly broke because for whatever reason, you can't communicate with the person who's supposed to love you more than anyone else in the world. You kids need to appreciate how lucky you are. You're cared for. You're taught how to handle things. It's not a huge muddle of guesswork that might result in you being completely fucked over for a few years. There's a safety net; and it must be so lovely knowing it's there. I wish so much I could have had that. But I didn't and that's okay. I'll deal with what I've been given, because it's the only thing that can be done.
I am well aware this post sounds a tad more emotional and pleading than usual, so I'm going to kindly ask whoever is reading this not to worry too much. Most likely, I'm exaggerating the situation and will laugh about it later on when the shit really hits the fan. But I'm not going to lie- I feel like crap at the moment and I think I want the world to know that. Not to get help, not to make excuses, but simply because it's so nice to be honest about how utterly shitty I feel right now. I feel like shit, but I'm going to get better because things always have a habit of working themselves out. And if not, I'll make them, because there's no other choice.
Peace.
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