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I yearned for a job in my early twenties with the same hunger as I did for my first boyfriend in my early teens—obsessing over who I knew who had one; grilling them on the details of how they acquired one.
When you begin to wonder if life is really just waiting for buses on Tottenham Court Road and ordering books you’ll never read off Amazon; in short, you are having an existential crisis. You are realizing the mundanity of life. You are finally understanding how little point there is to anything. You are moving out of the realm of fantasy “when I grow up” and adjusting to the reality that you’re there; it’s happening. And it wasn’t what you thought it might be. You are not who you thought you’d be.
Breakups get harder with every year you get older. When you’re young, you lose a boyfriend. As you get older, you lose a life together.
No matter how old or young we are, no matter how little or how much we’ve loved or lost, all of us deserve an occasional pair of arms around our waist as we stir the soup on the stove. It should never feel unavailable to us.
