Summer in Waiting Rooms: Figuring Your Life Out in Your Twenties

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Reading Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential while eating instant noodles, in my room, headphones blasting, is what this summer is all about. Well, actually, it’s about the heatwave, waiting lists for doctors that are too long, and unemployment as an ultimate nightmare, but you get the gist.

The notebook I turned into my journal lies forgotten on my desk because I’m tired of thinking and talking about the same thing. On the other hand, I secretly imagine how one day I’ll look back on the stuff I’ve written, you know, one day, when I make it, how I’ll look back on this period, reminiscing on my beginnings.

There’s a mirror on top of my desk, leaning against the wall. I turned my working desk into a vanity, and it did make me vain. I spend too much time in my head – no wonder I’m impatient.

The temperature’s dropped a bit, so I started craving fall. Every middle of July, I get summer fatigue and start imagining the falling leaves, the need to be cozy, with a warm drink and a baked good. As soon as I feel the cold wind on my skin, I’m done with the first half of the year.

I made an Earl Grey cake I have with a glass of milk. I don’t even like milk. But I love the coziness. I imagine that one day, in my own house, I’ll always have a cake or cookies on the counter. My home will smell of freshly baked goods and vanilla.

I remembered yesterday that I’m in my third decade of life. I forgot that fact because I don’t remember a thing of my first decade, very little of my second, and a lot of bad in my third so far. But there’s been some good, too. For now, life is just happening. I imagine how, in the future I’m working towards, my memories will be clearer. I’ll build a life for myself that’s going to be so vibrant that it wouldn’t possibly slip my memory.

My room’s a mess. I should probably get to cleaning it. All of my books are in a pile on the floor, in the corner, because I was thinking – there’s no point in buying a new shelf when I’ll be moving soon. Almost all of my possessions are in the boxes under my bed or on top of my closet. I’ve been ready to move all my life. I’ve been waiting forever in my room that isn’t my room because I have somewhere else to be. A home. I crave the nostalgic feeling of fall, where I can go back to myself, and I crave home.

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