I realized something strange as I was driving home tonight. I never decided to grow up and get a job to earn money for things like rent, food, and e-books. I never chose the life I am living.

I’m not saying I would have chosen a different life, or that I ever would. But I wonder if I’d feel less like a victim in the life I’m currently living if I chose it, or at least, recognized that it is a choice. I wonder if I’d be any less resentful.

It’s possible I’d still be pissed. I don’t particularly like the choices I see in front of me. Maybe my blind spots, my adherence to social norms or my need to please or my many assumptions, limit the choices I see, but regardless, they are still the only choices I see.

The truth is, I want comfort and security without having to give anything up to get it. I want to be independent and shirk responsibility. It’s a bit like how I want to eat whatever I want, whenever I want and still lose weight. Or smoke cigarettes without being a smoker.

I don’t think it’s possible for me to have what I want how I want it. At least, not right now, and maybe never. I have to choose, and in choosing, I have to give some things up.

I really fucking hate growing up.