Life after my backpack.

Bob Marley spoke wise words when singing "Sun is shining, weather is sweet". Back when the sun did shine and made life seem brighter, possibilities seem endless. Days were spent chattering about 'finding your life's purpose' and asking the all important question any well versed traveller asks "What are your plans when you finally arrive home?". Everyone repeats the same well rehearsed lines about realising their true passion in life and how time will be spent making those dreams turn into reality.
Reality is a fickle thing, when it does finally creep up on those unsuspecting souls (me included), tap them on the shoulder and pull them out of Narnia back onto this planet we call Earth. Life is what's there to greet you on the other side, penniless, aimless, cultured, you. Your travels now mean nothing, people back home simply don't care where you've been, what you've seen, who you've met. It's all inconsequential in their day to day life, your stories hold no relevance, Oh ye without a job. Life goes from being a backpacker, traveller, tourist, pot smoking hippie to a unemployed, dole seeking twenty something. Say hello to square one and feel free to get acquainted, who knows how long you'll spend with each other.
Bedrooms, kitchens, employment sections in papers, are what your lives consist of now, not hostels, bunk beds, 12 hour bus journeys, and hangover cures. Your parents are happy to have you home, but after four to five days this gradually wares off, your presence is normal. After seeing your friends for the obligatory night out after 9 months of being away, the meet and greet is over and contact no longer needs to occur as often - forced or not. People forget your there, that you have a cell phone, Facebook is not the only way to stay in touch now. This obviously does not apply to all.
The truth is, you're not as special as you thought, now it's time for you to feel left out, yet full of dreams. The grass is definitely not greener on the other side.
Two and a half weeks home, one night out, one wedding, two interviews, and lots of CV amending and talk of intentions leads me to here, writing this, wanting to pull my hair out. Hair that I can no longer afford to dye/cut/style.
Say bye bye to your backpack ladies and gentlemen, your life begins now.