"It makes me wonder why I'm still here"

While I write this I am lying in bed with my laptop, which needs to be constantly plugged in because it's a piece of shit, my mother is sitting in another room of the house watching the news on TV. She thinks I'm studying. I didn't correct her because it would only upset her, and god knows I do that enough anyway just by being me.

Probably I should move out of home. My parents have put up with me for long enough and I really should let them enjoy their imminent retirement without my bothersome presence. But I actually like living at home. Or maybe it's more than I'm too lazy to move out. Maybe I'm just not responsible or mature enough to move out of home. Which is a ridiculous assertion, because people who live in share houses are amongst the most irresponsible and out of control people I know.

The truth is, my life is easier because I live at home. I get along surprisingly well with both my parents. Sometimes I feel like they don't understand me at all but I'm sure that's something most children think about their parents. I'm actually very lucky. My mother is kindhearted and will always take care of me, and my father is intelligent and always makes me laugh. My younger brother and I are also very close. It helps, of course, that my family lives close to the CBD and I rarely have to pay more than $20 for a taxi fare. It also might be because I'm planning on taking a gap year next year to Europe and it is hard to save money when you're studying and renting.

Yes, gap years are traditionally taken before university and not after but this is a new generation; the generation that suffers through years of higher education. Because of that we are settling down later than even the generation before us and since I doubt my ability to settle down at all, a gap year it is. Hell, my gap year may turn into a gap life but that is yet to be decided. And so I remain in the family home. It works out pretty well since my family is rarely home together. In fact, we average dinner all four of us one night a week. My parents both work full time, have active social lives and take holidays together. My brother and I both study full time and work part time. My brother plays basketball, I get exceptionally drunk twice a week.

It's not perfect. I'd never bring a guy home for sex because although my parents probably wouldn't mind (and didn't mind during my brother's short lived relationship with his annoying ex) it's well...icky. I can't invite my friends over for afternoon BBQs because my brother has used up all the gas. Well, that and my dad is usually wearing one of his tacky Asian beer t-shirts. Overall though, it's a pretty good deal. The friends I have who rent have so much less money to spend on beer.

And now, because I have gone off on this tangent, I have forgotten entirely what I was planning to write about.

"We're happy free confused and lonely in the best way"

I'm 22. I'm female. I live in Melbourne, Australia.

I'm about to graduate from university with a law degree. This apparently means I should, at least sort of, have my shit together. Guess what? My shit; it isn't together. It isn't even sort of together. To be honest, I don't even know what my shit is.

Over the past year I've realised I don't want the things I always thought I wanted and I'm not going to be the sort of person I always thought I would be. Of course the obvious follow up question to that is: well the who the hell am I going to be? And that is something I have no idea how to answer. And you know what else? I kinda don't care. My defining characteristics seem to be the fact that I am eternally single and the fact that I lack the ability to give a shit about anything.

I'm currently supposed to be studying for exams. Obviously I'm not. But what's more to the point is that I'm not even really bothered. It would have bothered me, once. Even a year ago I used to be the typical university student stresshead, drinking too much coffee and eating too many dark chocolate Timtams but right now I can't even be bothered opening the textbook I spent over a hundred bucks on. And it doesn't really bother me.

I don't have a job lined up for next year. Not only that, but I didn't even bother applying for anything. Around me all my friends have been dressing up and going to interviews and freaking out about they will- or won't- be doing. It was just all too hard for me. Even the thought of ordering an official academic transcript seemed too hard, so I just didn't bother. And it didn't even worry me.

You know what I stress about? The fact that maybe I ordered too many waffles for afternoon tea. The fact that I only have half a bottle of red wine left sitting on my bedside table, and I'll probably need more soon. The fact that over the weekend I ripped a hole in my favourite black lace dress. The fact that one of my closest friends still confuses his 'yours' and 'you'res' on facebook. Those are my genuine concerns and anxieties in life at the moment. I know that is pathetic and stupid and maybe even petty but I. Do. Not. Care. Anything real just seems too difficult.

I'm not getting any younger. But I don't want to get any older.

This is the story of someone who doesn't know what the fuck they're doing. And who isn't ashamed of that, even if they aren't exactly proud either.