I have asked this question many times, but today it hits me harder than any recent curiosity could. What does one do post-Limbo? Is it a choice between Heaven and Hell as the religious would have us believe? I wrote a loose definition of Limbowhen I founded this website, meant to be an open space for me and my fellow mid-twenties lost children to think out loud. Since then, I’ve allowed the page to evolve through music obsessions; chronicles of my restlessness and wanderlust. I’ve even had to admit on these pages that I am no longer in my mid-twenties. Time marches on, I suppose, even in the ether of Limbo.
I think that’s something I didn’t understand when I began this blog. When I saw myself as eternally jaded and confused and 24. I dated musicians and drank too much and threw what few rules I had lived by out the window. I wore leggings and headbands and chain-smoked menthols in my knock-off Ray Bans. True, I still wear cheap plastic sunglasses, and I still smoke menthols, but looking back on the years I’ve spent in Limbo, I think I might have missed the point.
I’ve got some ideas, and some tough questions for myself, but it’d really help to know what you think. Check out my pontifications on life, Limbo, and moving forward, and let me know what you think after the jump…
It’s about growth. Limbo is an infinite space. It’s shitty deals and hard work and learning lessons you wish you never had to. It’s long roads and longer nights and you feel like nothing can even lift you up out of it or bring you down off your natural high. But as you grow, as Limbo does its job, you might not need it anymore.
You might not need to move every couple of months just because you’re feeling claustrophobic and twitchy. You might find you really do believe things you’ve always rebelled against. You might figure out that you’re okay with all of that and that Chick Corea was right and “that truth is basically simple and feels good, clear and right.”
But what do you do when you’ve staked your personality, your lifestyle, your relationships on this idea of freedom? Floating? When you’re ready to take steps toward becoming a real, whole, complete adult? I feel at a loss. I feel like I should admit I’m nearly 27, admit that I’ve just made what will surely be my permanent move (which, by the way, went fantastically), and that recently I’ve made decisions that will shape my life and my relationships forever. I need to admit these things. I need to wrap my dizzy brain around them, embrace them as who I am as I near the end of Limbo. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, it’s getting bigger as I draw closer, but I ask myself, am I ready?