1870 Days

That's the number of days I've been on my own. Living the life of a twenty something single female with high aspirations and little self motivation. I've been waiting at the train station, but I keep missing the train. Platform one career, platform two family, platform three the world. Why the hell am I still at the ticket counter painstakingly trying to pick a destination.

I feel like I'm in a foreign country and I just cannot understand what the face behind the counter is telling me. "I have to pick one destination? What about a package that offers all three destinations with a bonus day at the spa and unlimited happiness? What do you mean that isn't an option? So, what you're saying is, that I can can only choose between limited packages, one with two destinations both headed to no where, or the option with one destination only, which features a free t-shirt emblazoned with the words 'Self-delusion a must at destination la-la-land.' What?" I hate this place. My western sensibilities and deluded sense of self-entitlement are turning their noses up at these limited options.

I notice on the other side of the glass a blank stare meets my pathetic dithering and to be honest I can't blame them.

The universe must be weary of lamenting youth; those constantly lost in too much expectation and without the brains to take control of their own destiny. I can just imagine the author of the cosmos covering his ears with mighty hands and pulling his time worn face into a distorted mask of distaste, as yet another soul weeps about missed opportunity and the universal injustice of it all.