Been there, done that

Carolina Beach, North Carolina
We spend memorial weekend with S’s old high school friends. Lots of booze and smoke, lots of sunning and eating. A wonderful break, but I can hear the floor and the unpainted walls singing off-key all the way from Florida. Also, it’s so strange to hear people talking about their careers, planning lives, planning pregnancies, school zones, retirements. One tiny woman even talks about do-it-yourself time-shares. I’m too medicated to be angry or even roll my eyes, and part of me even realizes that making special weekends out of your life to get fucked up is healthier than being fucked up every single day…but I just don’t want these people’s lives, don’t really have much to talk about…except how much we all hate the current regime. I feel really sad (in my medicated way, detached from the sadness) because I just don’t belong in this life. Also, because I don’t have a comparable life to belong in. Yet. And sometimes it feels like it will never happen. Thinking about what the future will look like stresses me, scares me.