Today is the day before my 27th
birthday, and I am afraid.
The fear in my head is not the kind of
dread you feel in the immediate, say, at the sight of something shocking. It isn't a feel of paranoid unease,
either. Rather, it is a fear brought
about by a persistent and unquiet uncertainty, a simmering pot of question stew, bubbling up with chunks of "what if"s "should I"s .
I have just finished my last day of work at
my primary source of income. If I fail to find work in the next two months, I will be broke. I will be forced into a situation where I must rely entirely on the charity of others, and while that charity may be willingly given, I feel deeply ashamed at the possibility. I dread even more that I may be forced away from a place I have come to call home, and friends that I have made in that place.
To understand this, I have to look back.