I was walking out of work today. The day had been surprisingly quiet. Spirits had been high. There was dancing and cake in the canteen. Chocolate and silly hats on the shop floor. Hugs and pleasant well wishes as I left.
How strange that I loathed the place only 3 weeks ago. I was counting down the shifts. Now it's getting comfy, like a new pair of slippers. Maybe in enough time, I'll love it like I love the stadium. Maybe.
And the possibility is enough for now.
I wonder if I'm happy. And the existence of such a wonder makes me think I might be. I'm tired and busy all the time. I'm writing on the train and trying not to fall asleep. I'm missing my friends and seeing my KPs more than my own family. I'm still skint.
But at the end of the day, I feel so useful. I come home and that's it. No essays or assignments hanging over my head. I can do fuck all if I want.
Eventually things will have to settle down. I'll have to get one full-time job. I'll have to stop spending every spare penny on things I don't need. I'll have to be thinking about getting married, or at least moving out.
But I'm only 21. Eventually will have to wait.