The Truth of it All

I think I am having a mid-life crisis,

Then again I'm only twenty-three.

Do quarterly life crises exist?

I wish a therapist could tell me for free.

I did all the right things:

Graduated high school,

Went to college,

Got a degree.

Yet I'm sitting here on my couch thinking:

I've got no fuel

Or knowledge

As to why me?

Now you could say "Just get a job"

And sure that would be simple.

But I spent all this money to now feel robbed

For a career, I don't have...

Oh great, a stress pimple.

Now I wonder if all that time and money was wasted

On a dream of a life, I once painted

To end up as nothing more

Then that poor girl that once wore

That ugly uniform at McDonald's

With glasses that looked like goggles.

"Dream big," they tell you as a child,

Only for those dreams to be defiled

By all the debt that will consume you and you'll think

"That's wild."