Kyle

beautiful, Hope, Humanist, Journal, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

I went on my first date with Kyle today, and I say it like that because I know there are going to be more. He was funny, understanding, interested, intelligent, and cute. His face has very soft features and then a nice, defined jaw. Plus he’s 6’1. And an athlete. We connected on a lot of different things, we share a lot of the same interests and philosophies on life and relationships. He’s a computer science major, which is sorta my thing.

We got coffee today at 10:30, and I didn’t leave until 3:30- when he had practice. We got coffee, went for a short walk and ended up at Barnes and Noble where we compared the authors we had read and joked about other people, then we got lunch at a Thai place- because he’d never had Thai food before. After lunch, he invited me to come back with him to campus and I sat with him while he worked on a group project for his technical writing class (funny he was taking one, right?) we bonded and laughed over little things regarding technical writing, physics, and astronomy- also can we just marvel at the fact that he ordered a cappuccino, because my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I love a good cappuccino.

Anyway, after his group project was over we went back to his dorm. He left to go change, and I chatted with his roommate while I sat on his bed. Then when he came back, his roommate left, and there was this moment when I was sitting on his bed and he was pretty close to me and I could feel that electric energy that I always feel before a good kiss. His face was close enough to mine that it felt intimate, but up until that point, the most touching we had done was accidentally bumping into one another. I think I could really like this guy, and in the past, I’ve unnecessarily rushed things. I want to have a real bond with this guy. So I didn’t kiss him, instead, I got up and was like “hahah gotta go”.

There’s no reason to rush into things.

Can I just mention that when we got there, and my first reaction to him was feeling like I was seeing an old friend? Also, we matched- we were wearing the exact same shade of green. It looked like we tried to coordinate.

He’s super clean, which was nice. We love the same board games, listen to a lot of the same music, and we are both from the valley.

Okay, I’ll marry him.

There’s only like three things I didn’t care for. He is a big guy- like he’s toned, but he’s just broad by nature. He was a little too quiet at times. His sense of humor was just not my own.

That said, I like the guy a lot. He is literally the most considerate guy so far. I hope that wasn’t just the first date sorta thing.

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an·ec·dote

Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Memories, Peace, Personal, Relationships

I’ve gone through a lot of traumatic experiences since my freshman year of high school. They haven’t just gone away, either. They follow me. My parent’s divorce at the beginning of high school was really the spark to the huge wildfire. They neglected Riley and I, meaning I wasn’t involved in school or doing the things I should have been getting done.

When I should have been taking driving lessons, my mom was moving about two-hundred miles away into an apartment with her then boyfriend. She left us with her parents, but no one was really keeping track of us or helping us do what should have been getting done. I should have been practicing driving, should have been in therapy, and someone should have been reprimanding me. I didn’t have any of that, though. I had free range of doing whatever I wanted to do, and sadly none of it was responsible.

I spent most of my days doing homework, yes. But I also would stay in bed crying all day because I felt like my parents had abandoned me. I never saw my dad and my mom’s contribution was messaging me on facebook. Ultimately, I was alone.

Instead, I was seeking attention elsewhere- so the summer of my senior year, I ended up being raped by a man. I couldn’t tell anyone because I was seventeen and he was twenty-one. I felt like I had in some ways allowed it to happen, and to this day I couldn’t press charges just because I feel responsible. I missed my period for two months and thought I might be pregnant, I spent two months thinking I was going to have to tell my mom what had happened. Luckily it was stress-induced.

That October my mom’s ex-boyfriend got a little too aggressive with my sisters and I, so we laid an ultimatum on the table for my mom; Him or us. It wasn’t the first time he had pushed the line, numerous times he physically pushed us around or used his authority as an adult to control us. He also abused my dog because she would growl at him.

She chose him, we moved out. I had just started my first job, and the only place I knew we could go last minute was with a girl I knew from school. She and her mom lived on a decent size of property and they seemed very wholesome, I figured it would be a great place to heal. We didn’t communicate very well, though. After six months we had a falling out, both parties involved were at fault. But we had to move out.

So we found a place on craigslist with a single dad who needed help with the rent, it ended up being amazing for us.

This whole time, though, I was going to high school and having to walk around 10 miles a day just to go to school, work, and home. I had no room for fault because I needed to graduate and I needed to keep my job. I didn’t have a car or the means of getting one at that point, so I just kind of dealt with it. We were barely scraping by, and some weeks we didn’t have any food at home. I remember one night we had both worked over eight hours, I walked home late, and we had no food or money. But we had a can of black beans. No can-opener. No heating or any kind. So we used a pocket knife to cut open the can and made foil spoons. That moment humbled me.

It doesn’t matter where you come from, it doesn’t matter who your parents are, or what kind of car you drive. Any of us can find ourselves in a position where a single can of cold black beans with a little salt seems like a gift from God.

I applied to universities all over California and was accepted to San Francisco State. I decided to go there and pursue a technical writing degree, which on paper was a great thing for me to do.

I moved to the city, and I knew no one. My roommate spoke french, and the other four guys were either high, playing video games, or hiding in their makeshift pillow fort. I had a job as a barista in the tenderloin, and that alone was intimidating for me. The homelessness was a serious issue, and they were aggressive. I had to follow my survival instincts while I was there. Completely ignoring the ones who confronted me. However there was one homeless woman who would wait outside the shop before we had opened. We talked, her name was Ella Mae and she had three kids. Two sons and a daughter. I could never make out all of what she said because her voice was dry and her words were slurred, but I saw a glimpse of humanity in that woman. The last two months I was there, Ella Mae didn’t come around- it wasn’t until my last day there that I found out from my favorite regular that she had a heart attack and had been in the hospital. I was happy to have an answer but upset that she was struggling even more than she had to.

My time in the city was amazing for me and helped me grow to a point where I could clearly see what I should be doing. I was suffocated by the overcrowding of people, by the fast-paced life, and by the constant displays of wealth everywhere. It’s not something that San Francisco is known for, but it’s riddled with sports cars and because of the guy I dated, I was surrounded by people who had a lot more than me.

Of course, my apartment was anything but. I love it for what it is, but it always smelled like bad broccoli and weed. It was always way too hot, and really unpleasant. My male roommates would stay up until 4am, when I would be getting up for work, partying and drinking like there wasn’t a care in the world.

I honestly wish that could have been my college experience. I just get so caught up with life that important things like financial aid gets put on the backburner. Because of that, and a breakup, I ended up dropping out of SFSU and going back home.

My mom had broken up with the abusive ex and offered me a place in her apartment, so there I went. When I was still in the city I had half-jokingly applied to a job at a popular donut shop back home as a creative baker. I didn’t even know what the job implied exactly, I didn’t know the experience I would have needed, or how much I would be paid. But I applied for the hell of it.

I ended up getting the job, and here I am. A creative baker who, hopefully, will never have to work in customer service again. I sincerely enjoy my job. I can’t wait to be able to do it without asking a million questions, though.

After everything that I have gone through, I want to have inner peace. I want to enjoy every day that I am alive. Of course, this is a journey, last night I found myself curled up in a ball crying for no reason at all.

But I’ve been doing art again, painting and drawing- it feels good to re-open that part of me. I’ve also been way more open to exploring different fashion styles and being more of myself. It turns out the way I have always wanted to dress actually looks cool to other people too.

I’m sorting through my emotions, trying to understand myself. I never will, and I have accepted that- but there’s something about the act of trying that keeps me balanced.

re·gain

Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Personal, Relationships

I feel like it’s really obvious without having been said, but I really cared about T. I still care about him. I think that going through this break up has been the most challenging.

I’ve been fucking and drinking and getting high, trying to distance myself from him. I feel like that’s the only thing I can have. Distance. Our relationship was never perfect, but I always wanted to work on it. I’d never felt that before. I was willing to change my bad behaviors, become a better person, all for the sake of a healthy relationship. I’ve probably seen twenty guys since T, between dates and just sex- I haven’t met even one person that I would consider remotely on that level with me.

They were all interesting, attractive, intelligent. But I can’t force it. From the moment I got into his car that first time, it felt like we had been friends. It felt like I had always known him. Not like love at first sight, but we definitely just got each other. And it makes me angry because I’m hurt. Because I had been so willing to be there for him, to work through problems, to be the best girlfriend I knew how. He honestly just made me want to be that person.

I don’t hate him for breaking our relationship off. His reasons were valid, even if I have a feeling they were just an excuse. I still want him to do good in life, I want him to continue seeking the things that make him happy and fulfilled. He’s going to do some good stuff in the world, I do know that.

It won’t be soon, but I will find that again and I don’t need to be on Tinder or going on dates or having meaningless sex or drunk. I need to be alone. I need to recuperate. My heart is in pain and I need to love myself.

What we had is the closest thing to love that I have ever felt.

dis·traught

Journal, Memories, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

Gradual descent,
Into the bowels of hell-
We swim.

Ignorant of the consequences of our actions,
Intent on making stories out of memories,
Innocent and naive-
We swim.

Out of our thinly veiled masks
we masqueraded around town
with all the naivety it takes
to sincerely Believe.

Believe. Belief. Believed.
Genuinely distraught
by our own memories.

Captivated captive of love,
dumb enough to have Heart
in a world that lives for lust.

She believed.

en·tro·py

Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

Leaves crumble, crack, and fade.
Visions of their youths,
Quietly dissipate.

Nightly apparitions,
Glasses clink, echo
into excited dawn.

Before the sun has set,
and the night has yet to age,
Hearts eagerly sit, they anticipate.

Never the cracking, crumbling, fading
That surely comes with age.

Rather the excitement of potential lovers,
Drinks that have yet to be poured,
The unrequited love to be dismantled in thin air.

res·o·nant

Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

Everything that I have been through recently, all of the things I have experienced, it points to one thing.

I do care deeply about Leo, but he is not as significant for my life as I used to imagine.

When I was with Sam in San Francisco, I recognized how important it was for me to be with someone who was transparent and not that artificial. I was craving something more, something that I could only describe as a connection.

When I was with Donnie, I felt that same way- but he wasn’t as artificial. We weren’t connecting, though. Even though we talked about incredibly deep topics, and opened up to one another. We shared our stories of suicide attempts, our fucked up families, and emotionally unstable relationships. We talked late into the night about our deepest fears and desires. But, something major was missing for me. Something that I strive to give to other people.

When I was with Alfred, I neither connected with him or thought he was genuine. He masqueraded his expensive artwork and google home setup, but was so far gone from himself that I don’t think he was capable of emotionally opening up at that moment. I was missing it there, too.

When I was with T, we connected on a surface level, but I always felt misunderstood by him. I felt like he didn’t bother trying to understand who I was, and maybe it’s my own artificial bullshit, but I do believe that there is a lot to understand about me if someone tried. Both good and bad, I am a deep and flourishing river of things to be dissected and cherished. When I am in love with someone, that is what I do- I try to understand who they are. I try to understand what makes them tick, the in’s and out’s of what they desire, value, and their experiences. I care. That is how I care.

Last night with Leo, I was really drunk for a while. I forget everything that happened, but I know I opened up. I was really honest. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, my motivations were purely instinctual.

I realize now, I value being understood. Leo doesn’t understand me, he assumes a lot about me that I don’t believe is true. He has a really cynical world-view about everyone being selfish, and I don’t believe that is entirely true. I believe that we can become selfless. That is what I am trying to do.

I invited him to tell me all of the hurtful things that he assumed and believed about me, and he did. There was a lot. He called me naive, and I am. He said that I was manipulative, and I have been, but I work on that (with T, I wasn’t manipulative, which told me that I can be morally strong.) He started to tell me about Riley, and I had to stop him. At which point he said that it proved why people didn’t want to say hurtful things. He also called me emotional and said that he rolled his eyes internally because it seemed like I was trying too hard to prove my cynical worldview. Like I was just following the script of what I should be doing, aka being unoriginal in my efforts. He said he never felt what I felt for him, but that he cared. He cared and he was nice to me to help mask the fact that I was hurt, to try and make things better because that’s his nature.

There’s truth in what he said.

I wanted to be understood by someone else, the way I understood him. I wanted things to magically fall into place, for us to equally understand one another and all that la-di-da bullshit. That’s the naivety. The very real naivety. The part of me that would linger by Box Office after I got off work and giddily stare into his eyes before I would head home. I don’t hate that part of me, it hasn’t gotten me in trouble, it has just hurt me. I think that pain I have felt was an important part of the human experience.

Just like there’s truth in the manipulation- that’s a part of me that I actively extinguish now. She’s bitter. She’s angry. She’s mad at the world for always bringing injustice, where of course I am the Just and those who get everything are the Injust. It’s wrong. I do wrong. I am often much worse than I should be. And that part of me, she rips the photos of Vanessa in the breakroom. She gossips and weasels her way into drama. She is stern. She is a bitch. She thinks that being uptight will somehow achieve her end goals, that being cold and snarky will somehow garner respect. It doesn’t. Ripping up photos of other girls, gossiping, being cold, none of those things are respectable.

But Leo is right that it exists within me.

He’s right that I am emotional, but I want to understand it instead of getting rid of it. Too many people wander through life ignoring how they feel, and I won’t be one of them. I don’t want to be an explosion of emotions though. I want my emotions to be reasonable and in control. Perhaps that’s the next journey I will go on, emotional maturity.

He’s right that the world can be selfish and will consistently hurt you, and maybe this is just my naivety coming out to play, but I hold myself to a higher standard. I will work toward being morally in-tune with myself and my actions. Maybe I should adopt the whole notion that what I don’t know can’t hurt me. Maybe just for the time being.

I need to stop emotionally exhausting myself in situations that aren’t important.

What is important?

The moment? Family? Having a sense of purpose? Success, however it is that you define it? Love? Is love important? Are the mementos important?

I gauge what is important through my heart, what I am called to and called to do- that’s important. But I’m completely questioning it now because I thought my heart was calling for me to love Leo, I thought that it was important. I thought it was some version of destiny or fate calling to me to do what was supposed to be done.

I don’t regret listening to my heart. It’s never directed me in a path that ended up being wrong for me-

So what about Leo, then? Your heart called you there. Maybe not because you two were destined to fall in love with each other, but because he could teach you something important.

I know that I have improved who I am incredible amounts since I’ve had feelings for him. I have learned the truest parts of who I am, and the negative attributes that I have acquired through pain. I have become a more genuine me. The me I have always known I was- and I’m not done, I’m nowhere near finished on my path toward being a more sincere person. But I have made progress.

Maybe that’s why my heart was drawn to Leo. His influence in my life not only helped me grow, but it has helped me work on my biggest flaws. I could be the most giving person in the world, but if I continued to rip up the pictures of other girls and gossip and be nasty inside, I would never be genuine. If I continued to be concerned with what everyone thought about me, I would never be satisfied as I am.

I can admit when I am wrong, I am judgemental and insecure. My self-esteem takes it’s highs and lows seriously. When I am confident, nothing can tear me down. When I am insecure, it could take a slight breeze to push me over the edge.

I deal with depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies, and I’m showing signs of an addictive personality. Those are my big ones, the things I haven’t really been able to tackle yet because I’m stuck on the manipulation and insecurity and loneliness. I know they are intertwined. I know my problems don’t exist separately in different realms. They are one and the same. One larger picture, one big issue that I couldn’t take on right now.

So instead of dealing with it, I indulge. Another guy, another night, another unidentified pill, another glass, another emotionally charged writing session, another breakdown. What it comes down to is that I’m unsure what the bigger problem is, I don’t know how to help myself because I can’t say what’s wrong. I just know that I want to be understood, I want company, I want stimulation, I want to love and be loved.

My bed smells like him. His presence is still in this room, shadows have been cast into a timeless place that does not forget who has been here. His voice reverberates in the walls, it dances with the wind of the passing storm. You have been in this place. For me, love resounds.

There is beauty, even in this.

un·hinged

Journal, Love, New, Partner, Personal, Relationships, sex

Last night was single-handedly the most confusing experience of my life, (A+ for my exaggerations?)

I’m honestly more confused now than ever, and for once I’m not trying to analyze it.

We had sex. That’s all I’m gonna say on that matter. It happened. I’m kinda baffled about that. Kinda thought it would never actually happen… I haven’t told anyone. I mean I told my sister he was in my bed this morning and she probably connected the dots, but I didn’t explicitly say anything.

It is what it is and whatever that is, that’s just how it is. <<<< most confusing sentence ever, but if you really read it, things make sense.

I’m not mad about it, I’m not proud, I’m not disgusted, I’m just like- yeah. That happened.

Life is going to play itself out, and I’m tired of meddling. I feel like it’s too much and I am exhausted. No more drama or emotional rollercoasters, okay hun? Like can you be chill for 2 secs while the rest of the world catches up with the twenty million things you decided mattered Right NOw?

I woke up feeling fine, but as the day progressed I realized that I was incredibly hung over. I’ve been laying on the sofa sipping water with an ice pack on my head. I’m finally starting to feel okay, and it’s almost 7pm.

I start my new job tomorrow. Kind of excited, but also like kinda not just because I don’t want to have to work again.. Should really not complain because I’m only working short mid-shifts and not even full time. I’m working literally so little and I’m also going to have weekends off. I should Not Complain.

But hell, does anyone ever want to go to work? I’m not even that excited to meet my new coworkers or anything, and jesus christ this is why I don’t have any friends.

Ugh, I was so much more chill in San Francisco and have constantly been having mental breakdowns since coming back home. Wishing I could harness that same I don’t Give a Fuck energy that I had there. Because I didn’t. I knew no one, I had money, I was independent, no one could cut me down to their level. I was skinny, pretty, had good hair and skin, no one could touch me. Ya know?

But now I live with my mom again. I am real again. I am not a caricature of myself, I still have to come back down to Earth and deal with my problems.

I messaged T last night while I was laying in bed next to Leo… Weird turn of events after that- but I said something along the lines of “I love everything that hurts me” and that I couldn’t love the things that were really good for me because I was never treated right as a kid.

I learned to deal with pain but never learned to accept happiness.

Now I don’t know how to be happy. I want to. If you had asked me seven or eight months ago if I would be happy if I got to sleep in bed next to Leo and hold him all night, I would have hands down said yes. I would have gone on and on about how much I loved him and that it would be so satisfying to hold the person I love close to me.

And as nice as it was, as satisfying as it was- I could not enjoy it. All I could think about was how he said he thought I was too emotional, that he never felt that pheromone connection, that he cared about me and was sexually attracted to me but his friendliness was out of his need to care for things that weren’t okay.

And so I couldn’t lay there and be satisfied. I honestly felt so empty, because that is not love. I romanticized him because I thought he wanted the same things as me- because I thought maybe he was naive enough to believe in love like me. And after last night, ready for the dumbest part of all of this, I am still trying to find reasons to think it Could Be. After his whole spiel on how it isn’t.

But that’s just the first thoughts I have, my secondary ones, they know that’s not true. We had sex, followed by the wonderful rush of hormones that comes with it, and that’s all. Him inviting me to see a movie tonight was not an indication that anything changed. Him crying and apologizing for not getting to know me sooner is not an indication that anything changed. Nothing has changed.

He still doesn’t love me. His motivations are still the same, he probably just wants to lessen my pain, and god damn I was so close to falling for it.

I told him I loved him last night when I was drunk. I said that.

I need to calm down.

mis·take

Journal, no trust, Personal, Relationships

I always kinda knew I was naive, but I didn’t realize just how bad it was until tonight.

Leo and I met to talk today, at my request. He finally told me that he never felt that connection that comes with really falling for a person.

We talked, I cried, and then we bought some alcohol and he came to my place.

As far as I know, I’m currently hallucinating in a ditch somewhere and not actually in the situation I am in.

He’s in my bed right now. Last night we danced and sang and kissed and I think I have a few hickeys- but dear god I wish I didn’t. I have to remind myself what he said. He never felt that connection. He was only ever sexually attracted to me.

He apologized for never giving me a chance to get to know me, and he cried. I had never seen him cry before. He definitely didn’t drink as much as I did. I don’t know what that was about.

Anyway, I’m six months down the road and I need to renew that vow to avoid men. I should also put some pants on and take a few more swigs of whatever it is he bought,

I drunkenly told him I loved him last night. God, I am a dumb, naive, sad girl.

I honestly wish I would have just jumped that day on the top of my building. I should never have gone to see T, and I should not have tried to talk to Leo.

I need to just leave things be, or just… Leave.

en·dear·ment

Beauty, Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Relationships

My ego doesn’t want me to do this. It doesn’t want me to tell the truth. It would be perfectly content lying to you, saying all the things I wish were true. Like, saying that I don’t care.

But I’ve had feelings for you for over a year – I’m going to be transparent with you. Not because it’s easy, but because I value transparency. And because I want a sense of clarity here.

If I lied to you, I would just keep struggling. I could not grow.

I realize that being so honest puts me in a vulnerable place. However, being in a vulnerable spot isn’t going to stop me from being truthful.

I’m willing to cause myself discomfort in order to live by a set of values I’ve come to realize matter to me.

And I don’t want to be the kind of person who uses honesty as a thin veil to be a bitch.

There’s always a point in time where we find ourselves caught in regrettable action. Doing something that doesn’t coincide with who we are or what we believe. And in that moment we are faced with a decision. We must consider a few things; the way your actions made you feel, the way your actions made others feel, and whether those actions align with how you want to conduct yourself in the future.

The way I felt for you was very powerful. It was a pendulum, swaying from good to bad.

Due to lack of communication, I found myself really hurt. I never knew what you were thinking or how you felt. But I’m also not blind or dumb, I know we were never together. I know I tried to coerce you too much. I also know some of what has been said about me, and I’ve picked up from others that things have been said or insinuated, and that really hurts.

I’ve been an open book with you, and this is one of those moments where I have to decide how I want to act in the future.

Is this level of transparency productive? Is being a totally open book healthy?

Because I know that in this situation I came off as very desperate – but personally I know I’m not. I don’t need you, I’m not hopeless without you. I’m not under the impression that I’ll live a sad and helpless life without you.

I know I’m completely capable of being happy without a partner.

And I feel like my actions haven’t translated that for you.

All of the things I have done for you – the letters, bringing your favorite coffee for you, inviting you over… All of that was just supposed to show you that I cared about you. That you weren’t some object to me. But instead, things became convoluted.

When there wasn’t a clear answer for me, my insecurity came out. I felt toyed with. Perhaps you didn’t want to hurt me. Perhaps you wanted to keep me around for a rainy day.

My personal favorite explanation is that you really do feel something between us, however, I remind you so much of your dysfunctional ex-girlfriend that you cannot let me in. But you feel the same timeless thing I feel for you. You remember everything is as much vivid detail as I do, and you shared those parts of your life with me to value and treasure- not just because I was your friend, but because you wanted us to feel a connection before I left. I want to believe that you listen to the same song I do and think of me, that daisies remind you of me like they remind me of you, and there is a very simple and familiar calling within you that confirms things should be.

But that’s just when I allow myself to indulge.

It’s hard not to when the song that reminds me of you comes on as you drive past me on my walk.

1·24·2019

beautiful, Humanist, Journal, New, Personal, Relationships, school

I am a mess right now.

My mental health is the equivalent of scrambled eggs. Last night I hooked up with an ex-boyfriend. This morning, I am moving back to a small town and moving back in with my mom. I haven’t lived with my mom since I was seventeen. It’s been two years.

Which brings me to my next point, I feel empty. Unsure of myself, just like I did when I first moved to San Francisco.

I am nineteen, recently dropped out of university, suicidal, and moving back in with my mom. Adulthood is off to a great start.

Aside from feeling alone and like I have already failed – I’m also completely unsure of what I want to do.

I know what is expected of me, I know that I have created these expectations, and I know what I have proven I can do.

I don’t know my purpose yet,
I don’t know what I should actually be doing.

My focus was money when I moved to San Francisco. It was to obtain the quintessential idea of success.

My focus moving back home is to work on myself, and from the outside, everyone will be saying that I failed and gave up-

Which is completely true.

I gave up.

But not because it was hard or because I was incapable of doing it. I know that if I stayed in San Francisco and continued studying at State, I would definitely get a degree. Hell, I passed every single course I took my first semester- while working full time and having a serious relationship.

I did give up, but not on myself. I gave up on the fragile construct that a college degree and money would make me satisfied with who I am and what I have done with my life. 

I value personal growth. I value kindness. I value hard work and honesty. I value people who are in touch with themselves.

I want to be proud of who I am and what I am doing.

It’s taking humility to move in with my mom. To accept help.

I have not been okay. But instead of pushing all of this down deeper inside of me, instead of pushing through at a job I hated and doing another semester of university feeling dread and emptiness, I am going to accept that I do not like how I have been living and I am going to accept that I have made mistakes. I am going to accept that I have been cold, callous, angry, and I am going to work on myself.

I am going to accept that I am moving back in with my mom, and instead of seeing this as some major setback in my life, view it as an opportunity to slow down and make some major changes in myself for the betterment of the rest of my life.