Be Kind, Please Rewind
Seriously. Let's go back two, maybe three, months. Ummm, helllllloooooo??? Why was I so unhappy? I guess its natural and I just wanted something else. Something more even? Maybe I had gotten so into my routine that I just wanted to try something that I thought would be exciting. Something that I thought would be easier... or less demanding. I don't know. The hardest part is wanting so badly to make the right decision. The worst part is realizing that I am the only person who can control that. Nobody else can tell me what is right or wrong, good or bad. Its all up to me. ME. WTF. That is mind blowing, honestly. Sure I've been making my decisions for myself for a few years now, but when it comes to jobs, location, living... ITS UP TO ME. I can do whatever I want, whatever makes ME happy. But what happens when I am on the constant search for happiness, looking everywhere for it, and I lose sight of the happiness right in front of my face... the happiness that has been there along. It never went anywhere. I did. Things will change in the future. Friends will move away. Family will grow older. Relationships will come and go.
I wanted so badly to say that I was the one that moved away, and survived. I feel absolutely defeated. I am so ashamed, I can not even bring myself to face my dad or my family. I feel like a failure at times. Like. I thought I was going to do something to better the world out here, or better myself. Nothing lasted. I'm trying to remind myself that while I was here, I was not the happiest. As a matter of fact, I do believe I was the closest to depression I have ever been. I was always in a terrible mood. I had zero confidence. No friends, no family. I was constantly on the verge of tears and never quite felt like I fit in. I got ripped a new asshole by the man of the house. I worked an awful job. HOWEVER. Despite all of these awful things, in a way, I did survive, I guess. I'm not dead, for starters. I am leaving knowing that I could live out here. I would not really want to, but I could. I could even be happy most days. I would eventually get a decent job, and even start to get along with Charles.
The key is... I don't have to. I don't have to stay in an unstable enviroment, never knowing until the last minute that I pissed someone off. All I want to know right now is... happiness. And to make the right choice. And a ballin' answer for when people ask, "Why'd you come back?"
The best thing about being 22 is that my life does indeed, revolve around me. I mean to say that... I left my home because I wanted to. I'm going back because I'm too young to not be 100% happy... or even 85% happy. I'll leave being miserable to my 30s and 40s when/if I'm married (yuck) with kids (god forbid) working a job I hate (please no).
GOD. WHY AM I SO DRAMATIC?!
End Rant.
I wanted so badly to say that I was the one that moved away, and survived. I feel absolutely defeated. I am so ashamed, I can not even bring myself to face my dad or my family. I feel like a failure at times. Like. I thought I was going to do something to better the world out here, or better myself. Nothing lasted. I'm trying to remind myself that while I was here, I was not the happiest. As a matter of fact, I do believe I was the closest to depression I have ever been. I was always in a terrible mood. I had zero confidence. No friends, no family. I was constantly on the verge of tears and never quite felt like I fit in. I got ripped a new asshole by the man of the house. I worked an awful job. HOWEVER. Despite all of these awful things, in a way, I did survive, I guess. I'm not dead, for starters. I am leaving knowing that I could live out here. I would not really want to, but I could. I could even be happy most days. I would eventually get a decent job, and even start to get along with Charles.
The key is... I don't have to. I don't have to stay in an unstable enviroment, never knowing until the last minute that I pissed someone off. All I want to know right now is... happiness. And to make the right choice. And a ballin' answer for when people ask, "Why'd you come back?"
The best thing about being 22 is that my life does indeed, revolve around me. I mean to say that... I left my home because I wanted to. I'm going back because I'm too young to not be 100% happy... or even 85% happy. I'll leave being miserable to my 30s and 40s when/if I'm married (yuck) with kids (god forbid) working a job I hate (please no).
GOD. WHY AM I SO DRAMATIC?!
End Rant.