Silly me, 23.

Where has time gone? I feel as though I've spent half a year in some fever dream. My sense of identity was far more confused than ever before. That's saying a lot. This was supposed to be the exciting time, right? Having my own place, sure it is a glorified hotel but, it is mine, and I'm working for it. I'm scraping by, and yet I'm content because I'm doing this. My gosh, what has happened to me? I was focused I was ready to take on this adventure. Right as my life was finally mine, I lost sight of the plan and I lost control again. Twenty-three years old and I'm really doing this to myself now? Healing my inner-child, now of all times? I want to be over all of this, I want to get over the triggers that seem to paralyze my ability to move forward. This is the perfect time I suppose. The people and the situations that I've attached myself to these days, it's all pointing at the bleeding stab wounds I try to cover up and not look at. Bleeding out and in denial because to look at it straight on is to cry and never stop. I'm desperately afraid that if I begin to cry I will never stop. So then, I take the absolutely ridiculous route of believing if I let myself go and have drinks, have fun, it'll all magically disappear and I'll feel alive at last. Of course this never works. A few drinks in and I'm a snaughty mess unloading my mental illness upon anyone with an ear. Suddenly the painful self-awareness kicks in and my guilty conscious steps in to make sure that I will embarrass myself as much as possible. 



What am I doing? Seriously! Oh, so you're telling me adults spend their lives overcoming the negative scripts they've been programmed with? Or submitting to it. Autopilot. You're life, gone before you know it. Perhaps, I'm learning exactly what I need to learn. It's hard to be understanding with yourself when you snap out of it and realize what you've let yourself put yourself through. Again. These moments will happen to us many times in life. The wake-up call days, the nights that hit so hard when they make you remember that you're forgetting. You're forgetting yourself. You're holding yourself back. You're giving up slowly, giving in to the persistent scripts of your life until you believe them. You lose yourself. 



Letting myself go was I needed for awhile. Forgetting who I was, why I was, until it all errupted in my face. This is life, discovering yourself over and over again. Picking yourself back up, holding yourself, building yourself. It all sounds so selfish and yet I understand now, if you aren't there for you, you won't be able to be there for others. I want to be good for the lkives I touch. I want to hear laughs everywhere I go, or a shoulder to let someone know they're not alone. 



Falling in love with life is the best thing I will ever do. My heart is opening yet again as I remember, to feel, to love, to value, it is everything. I'm coming back to myself. Joining every part of me that I desperately wished to hide away, and allowing myself to be whole.

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