Is there any more to it?
There has to be more.
Am I selfish for wanting more?
I mean I do have a lot.
Now I don’t mean material things,
I definitely have enough material things,
Probably more than enough material things.
But I don’t think that’s my fault,
Whenever I pass them, op shops call my name like sirens call weary sailors lost at sea.
So I waste my money on plaid pants and frilly shirts I will never ever wear.
What I mean is that there has got to be more to it – to life, love, jobs – than this.
And maybe there is
maybe there is more and I’m just too short-sighted to see it.
I don’t know the difference.
Maybe I should go searching for more.
I could do more charity work,
Donate to good causes,
Maybe I’ll find this “more” through doing good deeds for others.
Or I could get married and have children.
That would literally be more.
Although the thought of marriage is daunting to a 17-year-old
Who can’t decide on a desktop background to save her life
I run endlessly through images of sunsets and posed pictures of grinning teens
None of them feel right
And the thought of having children makes me feel guilty and terrified
Guilty because the planets on fire
And terrified because the concept of childbirth is insane!
Womanhood is one long horror movie
But an artistic one that subverts the genre.
So for now, I’ll search for more elsewhere
I watched the trailer for Wild starring Reese Witherspoon and decided I should start hiking.
I would walk to find more
People always have their best epiphanies while walking.
But then after careful consideration
I realized I hate walking
It’s scary and not to mention boring.
So I head home,
Because it was getting dark and the dinky street lights made me look like a poster child for abduction.
Maybe I should go back to church.
Find more through faith and religion.
I was raised Catholic,
but as I grew older I learned about the awful deep flaws with the institution
And the place where I spent a good portion of my childhood,
Didn’t seem as welcoming.
I never really liked going to church, I found it boring.
To be fair though, I used to go when I was really young,
my friends and I would make up little games to entertain ourselves while our poor old parish priest would try to enthrall us with a story about a guy who turned water into wine.
Little Ella was too much of a realist for church
I would scrunch up my tiny face
and continue drawing pictures in the carpet while I kneeled.
My house is surrounded by churches,
So on Sunday our street is filled with well-dressed families on their way to mass
I see them outside my window and wonder how nice it must be to have a full faith in something.
I wish I believed in something.
I’m too indifferent about life after death.
I’ve never really felt a need to know what comes next.
maybe if I had a belief I’d find more
the only thing I have any faith in is aliens.
It’s naive to think we are the only ones out there.
Everyone tells me that once I finish high school,
more will be handed to me.
“It gets better!!!!!!!”
They say forcefully
and I smile up at them and agree although I think they are liars.
Who are lying.
Because yes these people may be right to some degree,
maybe not being stuck in the same place every day and being able to branch out and meet new people will give me more.
But these people really overestimate my branching out skills.
If I was a tree,
I’d be the sad little tree planted by the council on the nature strip in front of your house.
You didn’t ask for this overgrown houseplant
but it’s there.
It’s branches and trunk are so fragile that it requires rope and sticks to hold it up
because after a while I’ll grow and be comfortable, but that takes time
and I’m impatient.
I’ve grown up in the age of high-speed internet
I can literally see whatever I want whenever I want to see it.
I wish self-fulfillment worked the same way.
I want purpose
I want more
as quickly as possible.