Holy hell in a handbasket I have not updated this thing in forever.
Nothing much is noteworthy, at least in extreme happenings. I guess I'll just use this for a moment to...Talk about things going through my head at the moment.
I've spent most of my days flipping from waking up feeling like I can take on the world to mornings I bury my head as far as I can into the pillows because my eyes are sore and I just don't want to move. I've realized that this is what being in your twenties is supposed to feel like.
Oh, yeah. That's a thing. I'm 21 now. It's a weird feeling to know I don't have to ignore the wine list anymore, but I do because being drunk is kind of a terrifying practice to me still.
I've learned that despite settling down into my current living area for a good year, we apparently have to move again. It's a bittersweet thing that fluctuates among the steady current of "I can handle this" and "Hell fucking no, not this". I'm optimistic about our choices in terms of living, and it'd be neat as heck to get a huge yard for our dog to run around in. But everyone seems to be on the "We can move out of this town or even Massachusetts" train except for me.
I don't want to leave. This place has finally started to feel like home. (Warning: Uber weird poetic talk up ahead)
When I first moved out of the apartment we had lived in, it was a new start. Despite it being symbolic of us moving away from the place my mother died in, it was bittersweet because I was farther away from my home. From my library, from the water-ways I walked around with trees that had voices and character whenever the wind seemed to move through the leaves and away from every step I took from middle school to high school.
When we moved to where we are now, I made friends among the willow trees and the maple right outside our door. It was a protective bubble, even while I viewed it as a prison because I was farther away from the connections I had made and at the time I was resentful of a lot of things. Slowly, I grew to love those trees as much as I had the ones outside my apartment, as much as I had loved the water-ways and the mysterious places of my old home. I was able to paint the walls, have my own room, we even welcomed a furry, fat-bottomed bundle of happiness into our lives.
I cried when my hamster died, when my sister's hamster died. Because they were memories, connections to the old place. But I grew roots in this place too. Even as I knew it was temporary.
I didn't know how temporary it was.
Now, we have to move again. And sometimes I think to myself 'Hey, we can do a lot with this. And the friends you want in your life will follow you where-ever you go, they'll keep in contact. They'll know where to find you, they always do." But sometimes I have a feeling of dread knowing I could be so far away, away from everything, every good and bad thing that made me who I am.
It's just me venting here, and I apologize if this is getting boring. But it's what's going on in my life right now, this dichotomy of strength and worry.
I keep thinking to myself "I don't want to leave. I have so much to do here. So much I still have to say to people I don't talk to as much any more. I still want so many people in my life, but how will I have time for them if I move far away?"
And I know it's not the end of the world. Not at all.
But I still worry. Because moving for me has never been easy. It's always been a clean-slate-start-over whether I want it to be or not.
My eleven-year old sister is handling this better than me, and she's the one who would have to start over more than I would. -laughs- She's so strong. Stronger every day, a warrior through and through. Tough as nails with fashion as her weapon, she's growing so much before my eyes and I'm so thankful I get to witness it every day.
Again, this is just me venting because it's the most prominent thing in my life right now. And it comes with these silly thoughts that I'm trying to work my way through. If you've read this far, thanks.
What's new on your side of the world today?