There’s so much yet so little I want to say. Every day I evolve. All these thoughts and ideas that flow through my mind. Some abstract and complex, others are so simple and complacent. I always want to be better than I am from the previous day. But after awhile, the days start blending together and it’s hard to divide my time and see the difference.

If you told me a few months ago that I’d be sitting in a cozy common area on the 35th floor in a skyscraper writing this blog post, I would’ve rolled my eyes and apathetically dismissed it. Why? Because life was bland and empty. I didn’t see much progression within myself. Every day I wanted to give up. I honestly didn’t care about myself and my growth. I felt pathetic and alone. I felt like no new paths and challenges awaited me. I felt like this was it, this complacency and toil is all that waited for me.

But here I am, on the 35th floor of a skyscraper, writing this post. Sometimes I pinch myself to see if this is real life. I’ve been given this opportunity by one of my closest friends, and I am forever grateful to that friend. My spirits have greatly lifted since accepting this new job. I feel like I matter, I feel like my opinions are valid, and that my contributions are appreciated and helpful. I’m learning new skills in a completely new environment. I feel a different kind of happy; an unexpected emotion that I haven’t quite felt before. I’m guessing this new feeling is because of this new adventure in my life. I’m savoring every moment that I have this job.

Because I’m a paranoid person, I always expect the next day to be the last. I know this is irrational, but I just can’t help it. I never thought I’d be in this position! I’ve always worked dead-end coffee jobs. I don’t mean that in an offensive way. It’s just, after working in that environment for so long and loathing it more and more each day, I became jaded and angrier as each day grew. Angry at myself, angry at the people around me, and especially at the customers. I’d always encounter people that were more successful than me, and I just felt like I was missing out on something great. My indignation began to rule my psyche. I learned a lot in my years of customer service and being on the frontline of the douchebaggery that fueled the fire in me. I hated it, and I desperately hope I won’t have to return to that world. But I know how awful it is, and I have a deeper appreciation for the person on the other side of the counter more so now.

I wake up now, and I feel grateful for the things I have. Every day I wake up, I try to count the blessings I have. It helps with my mental well-being, and keeps me in check. It’s so easy to dwell on the agony that swirls in my mind. But in the end, it gets me nowhere. Even in my darkest times, I try so hard to remember at least one thing that’s going upward for me. Lately, it’s been this new job. I feel like I have a purpose again. It’s such a great feeling. I’m drinking it up like the freshest water you’ve ever tasted.

My problems aren’t magically solved, and I know they won’t ever be. But slowly, I’m chipping away at what I can to make myself feel better. I’m pushing away the people and things that aren’t contributing to my life, and I feel lighter for it. The simplicity of life is something I savor, because inside my mind, it’s a chaotic mess. I hardly want to invite anyone in here because I don’t want to scare them away. Meeting new people can be hard; I never know how much to disclose. Am I too much? Have I said too much?

God, don’t even get me started on dating… I loathe it completely. Talking to a dozen different guys every month, some conversations flourish, some die instantly. Even those good conversations tend to have an expiration date and don’t move forward into a date at all. It’s hard looking for what I want and need in someone. Perhaps I’m being too picky, perhaps my standards are too high. But you know what? I don’t mind that. I know what kind of person I need. Most importantly––besides chemistry, communication, trust, and honesty––I need somebody that will stay by my side when my mental health dips up and down. I know that’s scary for some people because they don’t understand the complexity of it. I just hope this next person is more than willing to help me along the way. I hope they never hold it against me. I hope they understand the kind of person I am and decide they love me enough to witness first-hand the demons in my head.

Aside from another person coming into my life, I’m learning to love myself enough to brave the storms inside my heart, mind, and soul. But when the day comes when I finally meet someone who fits into my life, I sincerely hope they are the most understanding individual they can be.

To be understood is the one thing I constantly crave. The connection felt when intertwined with another person––and having their undivided understanding––is something that can’t be replicated with anything else.

I guess time will only tell, won’t it?



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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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