Tuesday, December 8th, 2015
Well, hello there, friends. It sure has been a bit since the last time I’ve posted, and I suppose I should explain why I’ve practically been hiding out. You see, over the summer, I was in my hometown (a tiny little midwest town), posting regularly. I had a plan; I was doing what I thought I loved, and doing it successfully, and that was that. It was simple. When I came back to Lawrence, just like that, my inspiration slipped, and all of a sudden, I felt so incredibly undeserving. Of success, of dreams, of happiness. I don’t know how to explain it — I just didn’t feel like enough anymore.
People I’d never met thought they knew me, when the truth is, I didn’t even know me. Weeks passed and I lost sight of some of the little things that I’m made up of. I started trying to make everybody happy with me to overcompensate for the fact that I wasn’t happy with myself. I was trying to keep up with and fit the image of what everyone made me out to be instead of treating my blog as what I created it for. I wasn’t growing with my blog anymore; it was growing, and I was plateauing.
I needed the chance to remind myself of who I am outside of this internet vortex, and who I want to be.
No, I’m actually not the girl who “just takes pretty pictures.”
I’m the weird girl you honestly probably would have ignored in high school, with too much fervor in her eyes, questions in her bones, coffee in her cup, and adventure in her heart. I open up my journal every night like an old wound and I willingly bleed into the pages, searching for something beautiful. Yes, winter makes me sad, but I take comfort in knowing that spring will come, and when it does, the earth will thaw, and I will once again be surrounded by life. Human anatomy fascinates me, veins humble me, and the sky makes me feel small, but I could never stop looking up at it. I still write love poems and I still fold them into origami hearts when I should be doing my math homework, but I still receive high marks in math and I’ve still never been in love outside of convoluted moments; regardless, I’m always in love. Whether it’s with a person’s laugh, or the way the leaves fall from a tree, I’m never not in love. I’m terrified of small talk and of my own body. I’m horrible at hellos and better at goodbyes, but expiration dates don’t make letting go any easier. When I’m sick or sad I take vanilla in my coffee. I’m so filled with wanderlust and nostalgia to the point where it hurts to even think about. I want to be a writer and I want to follow my dreams and even though I am flawed and cracked and broken and perpetually searching for metaphors, I am enough and so are you.