I feel like the caricature of an adult that my child-self had in her mind. That I’m just about not doing things correctly. I feel the least grown up I’ve ever been and the most level headed.
Maybe the difference strikes in my mind when I understand my perspective of “grown up” is/has always been harsh and unloving, slate cold and stressed. But at the moment I am fine picking up the pieces and realising that emotions and interpersonal relationships are far more important than your countertops. Adult evokes an image of stressed and serious businesswoman on the phone, click-clacking through the Big Apple, sternly trying to be recognised amongst her male peers in this Business. Technology. Cold and harsh house, white and grey and angular.
My happiness is stored in fun colours and supposed visual immaturity. Though emotionally I am told I’m very mature, I’ve had a lot of successful therapy to cope with my hardships and traumatic experiences. I know that older adults say you never feel like an adult, all it is, is that of a legal definition. You get tried as an adult, you can buy beer and cigarettes, you have more freedom and options, you can rent a house. I am renting a house. I need to remember that if it all goes differently to what I imagine, there is always a solution. I am laying on my made bed, I applied for [REDACTED] but I know if they are not helpful I can find help another place, or sort it out myself. I did my gardening today, I am listening to jazz. The fan is blowing, I would like to think of what I’d like for dinner, maybe some pasta that is baked in the oven, I have cheese and macaroni and all these wonderful things to do.
leaked demos 