Six Word Memoirs on Life Stories

Backstory

Yesterday, we started paying rent here. It's completely reasonable but discouraging, nonetheless. We were supposed to be here for a few short weeks while Nathaniel got this job lead worked out. But that fell through. And so did the next interview. And then the second and third interactions with the original company.

Three months have gone by and we're still here, and now my parents feel that we should be paying rent if we're going to be around for a while. I don't disagree. I just don't know why we're still here.

Then I speak with two different friends who are married and living with their parents right now. Both have stories like ours. They were only supposed to be there for a short while. Both have been there for two years now.

Two years.

Two years?

I can't even wrap my mind around that. I can't allow myself to accept that. Maybe that's my problem. I can't accept where we are, I feel like we should be somewhere, something else. This isn't what we're supposed to be. I am dissatisfied and restless, waiting for the place we belong. I guess right now, we belong here, but it's the last place I want to be.

This has been a snowball affect of crazy and I'm only recently starting to resign myself to this awful, terrible feeling of just relaxing and letting myself roll down the hill. Eventually it has to stop and the sun has to show up to melt it all away. Right?