Living somewhere in…

It’s a new month and at last, I can breathe!

Here’s a writing prompt for the day: Everyone has their own place in their minds where they can go for pleasure, or just to escape the harrowing ongoing life. But of course, no one really lives there in that place physically. Write from a standpoint where a person may live somewhere to get away from something or someone.

It can be anything. “I live somewhere in the south of France…” “I live in Hawaii…” “I live in Never Neverland…” It can be fictitious, poetic, true, funny, poignant, or anything else like that. Just go with it and write about it until you feel like your eyes hurt or your fingers get cramped. Or until it’s time for you to go to sleep.

Here’s my take…

The reason why I hate an ultimatum

She says I’m living in a fantasy. That I need a job and a life in the real world.

Not that I don’t blame her; I kind of agree. I don’t really have a life. In my head, I imagine that I’m a well written, successful novelist. Sometimes a great music and life journalist, other times, a contestant of NBC’s “The Voice” who goes on to start a super band and rise to stardom after the show.

But it only lasts a little while before I come back to earth. When I’m back, I take care of business. Take care of the dogs, do the laundry, put the dishes in the dishwasher, making sure the Teflon pans don’t go in because the soap ruins the smooth non-stick surface.

But tonight, I can’t think straight. I feel a headache coming on. I’m exhausted from everything my boyfriend’s been nicely asking me about. I’m staring into the bright screen of the borrowed-from-my-mother’s notebook sitting all toasty on my bed while I’m thinking of something to write at three in the morning.

I should go to bed.

Of course, everyone’s been breathing down my neck about getting a job so I could get that driver’s license, that car, and my own home. I also need that health insurance because my time on my parents’ sucky plan is about to run out. Not only that, I have to pay my college loans back somehow and the people I work for presently don’t even pay me for what I do best.

On the other hand, she’s right that he had no right to ask me why I didn’t have a job yet and why I didn’t drive either. I assumed right there that he expected his ideal girlfriend to drive, to hold down a job, and to have regular doctor visits. That made me nervous tonight.

He was at least nice about it, sure. He’s never forceful, which is why I love him. Still, I’m broke and I don’t know how to go about our relationship with my non-profit job, no license, and a poor excuse for insurance.

So tonight, I needed to unwind for maybe an hour. After all, I had been looking forward to see the season finale of my favorite crime drama all week. I needed to see who this Red John was so I could go to bed, satisfied.

And yet, she’s a little miffed that she doesn’t have clean laundry for dad.

I missed most of the show talking with her, or pretty much all of it, really. Still, it was worth it because I needed to get the thoughts on my date off my chest. I was miffed too, I’ll admit.

I shook a little when he told me he had concerns. I took a deep breath to calm myself at dinner when he left the table for a moment. My hands were cold that I put on my jacket and I began having the sweaty palms effect. The waitress even asked me if I was ok, thinking this was our first date.

I hadn’t felt this nervous on a date in years. On my first date with a cute guy from college I had a crush on, I was nervous as hell. That was probably the last time I was nervous around a guy on a date, and he turned out to be a hipster freak. Didn’t last more than a few months.

I hope and pray that we’ll last a lot longer. He’s probably the man I’ve been dreaming about. But no matter what I do, I’m back in my land again, thinking of the impossible, or improbable.

But here’s my dream: I’m a successful someone living in a nice house with my best friend from college. It’s probably somewhere sunny, like California, without the dry air and pollution of the city.

Also in my dream is a sweet boyfriend who lives with us. He isn’t shy, loves to dance and sing, is a little musically inclined, and into rock music and nerdy things like Red Dwarf, Sherlock, The Avengers, Doctor Who, Firefly, all that stuff. Someone who respects me and loves me for who I am. A Mr. Darcy.

Plus, I have a sweet ride, like a bright blue BMW or a Mercedes.

In my dream, I don’t take any medication for anxiety. And I never worry about paying my bills or anything holding me back from doing something I want to.

But that’s a silly dream.

In reality, I have to find a job that pays, and it doesn’t matter if it’s something I love or not. I’m scared of getting fired because my boss says, “I find you’re not happy with the job,” and I’m terrified of losing everything because I’m not taking care of myself financially.

I sleep all morning. I stay up until three or four in the morning. I sometimes try biting my tongue without my mouth guard while I’m sleeping and holding the covers tight, hoping that maybe, just maybe…

There is still hope.


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