It’s been awhile.
I’ve been meaning to write. I’m always meaning to write.
I finally have a job where essentially I’m getting paid to write all day, but I still feel like I never have the chance to truly write. To express myself.
So… last time I wrote it was the beginning of March. This month has really flown by. In the meantime, I… had a crappy birthday (of course), had a nice time in New Orleans for Mardi Gras, made it through the rest of furlough season at my job and ended up here.
Here is less than a month away from my one-year anniversary in South Mississippi. Here is scheming up ways to win my “dream job”… while also considering back-up plans and side gigs in order to finance the project I call my life.
Here is internally freaking out about wedding plans, but having no one to truly share them with. Here is really frustrated that I’m not the open book I want to be when it comes to my future husband… and equally frustrated that he doesn’t try to peel me open.
Here is wanting a baby… wanting a family… and then thinking back on all the fun, free times of college life and my Hampton days.
Here is not understanding my ish… and not being able to decipher my dreams.
Here is happy, confused, unsatisfied, disappointed, yearning, grateful, blessed… just a crazy work in progress.
I miss having friends around. I miss family. I miss my old writing life.
I’m trying to make things better… but it’s hard and I’m lacking the energy.
Feeling kinda emo right now. Imma stop writing.
Two days until the weekend.