Have you ever had something, anything, that you knew wasn’t benefitting you anymore but you were too attached to let go of? Something near and dear to your heart that was slowly causing detriment to your life? I do. I’m attached to being naïve. I feel like I’m in AA and admitting to a habit that has impacted lives; mine likely has. I have a grandeur idea of self, an admittedly naïve and selfish one. I haven’t learned from it and often find myself wondering why I don’t just “grow up.” When I was ten years old, I used to lay awake at night and dream about falling in love. A fantasy world where whatever I wanted to be real, was. I wanted a ten car garage? It was in my future. A Harvard degree in law? I’d get it at 24. I was convinced I would be married to the man of my dreams and have anything I ever desired. Unfortunately I found too much comfort in my fantasies and didn’t pay enough attention to the details that would have actually brought me the success I desired.

In a lot of ways, I have matured. I pay my bills on time, eat my vegetables, clock in to work five minutes early, stay five minutes late, do my laundry the day I should, buy my groceries in a timely matter, save a little money with each paycheck, and hell I even brush my teeth twice a day. So what is my Achilles heel? Fantasizing. I’m now 21 and a two-time college drop out working full time as an assistant, and have never been farther from my dreams. I realized the Harvard law degree became brutally unrealistic for my life, and that dream died early on. Becoming wealthy has slowly but surely joined the Harvard degree in the graveyard of dead dreams. I’m now in a relationship with someone who relies heavily on realism- which means no empty promises of loving me or of a future together that he can’t guarantee.

I am not prepared for life. I’m terrified and anxious about the future. I don’t have a plan.

Restless Sunday


Sunday’s are the hardest nights to fall asleep. I lay in my bed for the first time this week and have an early morning ahead of me. The past two nights we have usually spent together, your body print still on my memory-foam mattress. I will usually have spent the day preparing for the rest of the week. Once I get to bed, my mind often wanders and questions why I let life feel like this. Start thinking I should pull a Walter Mitty and really pursue living. Look through listing after listing of jobs I’m unqualified for, but equally disinterested in. Remind myself to be grateful for what I’ve got, but there’s a stinging thought that I should have figured this out by now. How do you quantify success? What makes happiness? Where will I be at peace? Who should I spend life with?

Journal #7(?)


I’m frustrated with my:

  • job because I’m not treated with respect.
  • boyfriend not responding to my texts in an hour.
  • financial situation because I get paid $16 an hour.
  • attitude towards life
  • weight, it’s so fucking easy to put on.
  • car because the fucking door won’t shut and the check engine light is on
  • bed spread because it’s stained
  • breaking purse, I spent so much money on the damn thing
  • Aching feet, I’m standing on them for 8 hours a day
  • alarm tone, I’ve heard it everyday for months and it’s getting on my nerves
  • phone’s battery life. It shouldn’t be dying so quickly, it’s not that old
  • PC. Why THE FUCK doesn’t the keyboard fucking function like it’s supposed to
  • Closet space, there’s not enough of it
  • shower door- It should JUST SLIDE.
  • fridge height, I’m short and it still feels like I have to bend over entirely just to get into it.
  • lack of sleep I go to bed on time every night, so why the fuck can’t I sleep through the night? Why do I keep waking up???

journal #6


It’s been almost a year. You tore me apart, I really thought I was in love. Now I am laying by someone else, and my heart still aches. My mind wanders. Could he do the same thing that you did? Am I bold enough to find out? If you did not love me, and I was convinced you did, there is a chance he does not either.

I am a fool.

journal #5


I started online therapy, which reminds me of this. It’s a lot like online therapy, but instead of someone responding to me I have a deep and endless void. And strangers who read my most meaningful inner thoughts.

It’s helping me a lot more than the blog does. I have to think critically about what I am sharing and whether or not it actually matters to me. I don’t want to waste my money paying for a therapist for her to tell me that I have trust issues, a tendency to push away comfort and then facilitate it for myself, or that I chronically avoid anything important. I know those things. I want to really get to what the issue is, the big thing that I’m not aware of.

Even though she’s just asking me questions, I feel like I’m allowed to process. I can have new thoughts and ideas about myself. Journalling, blogging just weren’t cutting it. I was beating a dead horse and had nothing new to say. Even I was getting bored of my narrative. It was agitating, everything being so stagnant.

She already pointed out that I don’t feel grounded or prepared for life. It struck something. It’s very true.

I want to dig into the effects of my sexual assault. I want to dig into being cheated on. I want to understand what happened to me when my parents abandoned me. I want to understand the effects of my dad’s absence in my childhood and the alcoholism. I want to understand my risky sexual behavior. I want to explore why I manipulated people. These things really fucking affect me. I want to deal with them.

I can’t move on and start my life until I understand how these things have affected me.

Journal #4


I realized today that my expectation of being successful in life was really entitled. I expected to work hard for it, but I assumed I was somehow special and would be successful no matter what I set out to do.

My first few jobs didn’t help that thinking because I was promoted so fast and praised for my hard work- but I recognize that being called a “natural born leader” by old managers at minimum wage jobs was their way of manipulating me into doing more than I was getting paid for- not because I was exceptional.

I’m unskilled. My time isn’t worth more than minimum wage. I have basic knowledge, nothing more.

I am completely average and unless I do something, that’s not going to change.

journal #3


If someone told me I hadn’t been fully aware since childhood- I would believe them. I haven’t been able to focus on anything for as long as I can remember. How long back can I really remember? It all blurs together- trolley cars on california avenue and making love on rugs in front of a mirror, waking up at 2am to make donuts and chugging coffee like a fiend, sweeping up popcorn kernels off the faded blue carpet with colorful geometric patterns. It’s all the same. I can’t connect to it anymore.

I’ll sit down to write about it and it’s just gone.

What have I really experienced if I can’t recall it vividly?

Journey v. Destination


I’m conflicted because I have a desire to be successful, and I enjoy working hard. I’ve just struggled…

Once I realized it was a capitalistic rat race, I lost the motivation to keep going. I adopted a mindset that self improvement was the only real leg up in the world I could give myself that would be lasting.

College degrees are useful, but I couldn’t stick with one to save my life. I struggled to stay in college for longer than a semester at a time. Three years after high school and what did I have to show for it? Some pretty embossed business cards with my name on them, shoved under my bed and dusty from two years ago. A servers apron, and old notepads etched with the last orders I took.

Now I feel stuck in an office job, where I’m comfortably miserable and spend my days wishing I could get out of work for a colonoscopy.

I’m a miserable artist, but it’s the only thing I’ve stuck with over the years.

I know one thing- I’m determined to be happy when I die.

Journal #2


The last three days felt like hell, I was convinced that our relationship was over. Thankfully tonight we talked, and I realized how much I let my anxiety dictate my beliefs.

I thought he was going to break up with me, but instead of the fated words “I don’t think this is working out” I was met with something I’d never heard before. He wanted to work things through too. When I heard that I almost cried, I rushed to hug him as fast as I could and refused to let go. I thought for sure things were over, and I wasn’t ready for that.

I really have found a good guy, someone who makes me want to be better too. He has brought so much excitement, love, and adventure into my life. I’m so glad we both care for each other the way we do. He’s my ride or die.

Journal #1


I’ve had four hours of sleep, the last thing I ate was half of a burger three days ago. My stomach hurts, but I don’t think it’s from hunger. I feel like if I ate it would come right back up. I worked nine hours on my feet yesterday, but it went by fast because I was thinking about my boyfriend and our argument.. Last time was just my feelings, this time his values are being challenged by me.

Everyone I talk to is siding with me, but I don’t want them to. I see where he’s coming from, which also concerns me because my mom seems to think he’s being controlling. Maybe I’ve fallen prey to another manipulator who wants to mold me into his perfect girl. On the other hand, maybe what he wants is actually best for me? Health wise, drinking less would be very good for me.

What are my motivators? What is driving my decisions?

He has asked for time to think, about more than just our relationship, but more than likely about our relationship. Just until tomorrow I guess. This is reminding me of my last “ex”, who disappeared on me after seven months.

I have so much I need to process