Imagine.

Imagine right at this moment (well after reading this post of course), you woke up. This has been a dream. Everything you know and love is nothing more than a fabrication of your mind. You are in reality, a 40-year-old estate agent from Inverness, a billionaire CEO of a technology giant, or even a dingo roaming the plains of Australia.

Or, you’ve woken up in a world vastly different from the one you know; the society, culture, politics, history and even the geography of this wonderland are all completely alien to you. Nothing you think you know has any weight here. Your family don’t exist, your friends don’t exist, your job, your home, even the body you thought you possessed doesn’t exist.

You know that you exist, but you have no idea what you are.

Capitalism is antonymous with happiness.

As I have bragged on and on about, my plan for the future is to emigrate. To do this, I need money. To get money I have to work. To have enough money, I have to work full time. 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. This is no way to live. You see people working their lives away, and for what? A few hours of watching TV and drinking before heading to bed to start all over again? The “living for the weekend” lifestyle is my idea of hell.

When it comes to life, happiness will always take precedence over money for me, but unfortunately we live in this chaotic and disgusting capitalist world. The proverb “money can’t buy you happiness” is simply not true. Money is essential to deal with almost any problem we encounter. Happiness to me is getting the hell out of Northern Ireland, moving abroad. I hope to reach that goal within 2 years. This means that I’ll have to become another cog in the capitalist machine until then to be able to afford my new life. I have to pay for my new life.

But there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. My best option is to squeeze as much happiness as I can out of this mess. Northern Ireland can’t offer me enough. Some people are completely content to stay in the area they were born for their entire lives. I am not. I simply can’t understand the great lack of wanderlust in this pathetic country, especially considering what it has to offer; sweet f**k all. The people don’t do anything. There’s no innovation. Everybody’s inherently negative about life. It is a debilitatingly traditionalist place. I feel like a second class citizen of the world here because there are so many better places to live. Places I would be proud to be a citizen of. I’m not proud to be “Northern Irish”, there isn’t a patriotic cell in my body. And who can blame me?

I hope I get this job, because if I do the money I earn is not simply to fund a worthless life like the vast majority of people, but towards a real-life and exciting goal. It alone will give me the push and the enthusiasm without which I would certainly slump into a depression.

“I am not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world.” - Socrates

15 months.

I’m pretty confident that I’ve secured a job in a local burrito bar. A menial job, but a job all the same. I have a friend who works there so she can introduce me to their little world. Due to unfortunate circumstances involving DLA, a job will provide an extra income which I could enjoy. In fact, I’m quite excited about the prospect. It has given me a little encouragement to go after that life I’ve blabbered about for a year.

My DLA (disability living allowance), which I receive for epilepsy, hasn’t been approved for renewal. This is ridiculous as I still have epilepsy. I still have seizures, and all the baggage that comes with it. It was approved three years ago, and nothing has changed, so why I wasn’t approved is beyond me. I have of course appealed and am using the help of the Citizens’ Advice Bureau. I’m confident of my case. How can someone with a condition such as epilepsy not get the benefits of a disabled person? I’m indefinitely on medication, isn’t this enough to say that I’m absolutely a candidate for benefits? I mean, working full time hours at minimum wage would increase my weekly income by around only £10 compared to my disability benefits! Crazy.

Anyway, back to my 15 month plan. If I was to get this job, with full time hours, I would be able to comfortably afford to save around £100 per week. That’s assuming my DLA is eventually approved. This means that by the time my current lease on my house has expired next July, I will have saved around £6000. This is enough to keep me going until I find a job abroad.

I’ve been researching various cities in which to live. I think I’m most interested in France, or perhaps Italy. At the moment, it looks like Marseille is winning me over. The climate is amazing, and as far as the cost of living, it works out slightly cheaper than Belfast. A one bedroom, non-central apartment costs around £300 per month. Similar to right here at home. Other candidates in Naples and Berlin. I’ll have to decide soon, as I do not speak French, Italian or German, so I will have to do a part time course to prepare for my big new life.

Here goes!