What’s the point of a title–titles are for beginnings.

It’s halloween. I’m sitting on my couch. Ate ice cream for dinner. Home alone. Attempting my statistics lab assignment. Nothing really happening. I’m fine with it. Some may even call it the norm. Oh wait, that’s just me. I’ve been conditioned to think that life is supposed to be this way. Lol.
I just had a thought, though. So then I began writing.
I’m done letting others define me.
& that’s all there is to it.
After years, literal years, 8 years to be exact, I’ve lost touch with myself. I’ve been manipulated, played (karma is coming), laughed at, scolded for my faults, for my experiences, for the way I’ve become from those experiences.
I am just so fucking done hearing it.
Photos help. I look through them, from high school, from the beginning of college, and I see this beautiful & free gal who simply loved existence. She had so many experiences and so much going for her. The world was her oyster.
I’m twenty-seven and a half now. I’m sitting on my couch, in my mediocre apartment that I cannot afford, that I honestly don’t even want to live in, having dyed my hair last week to cover the grey from the stress I’ve allowed into my life, and thinking about why my self-worth is crawling along rock bottom. All while persuading myself to stay in this program. Just stick it out, I say over and over, to myself, of course, because I’m fucking alone. DUH.
What I’m looking for isn’t unobtainable. It’s even less than what most have.
A partner. To come home to. To cook dinner with. To fall asleep next to. To wake up with.
Someone whose wants align with mine, like a thriving future and rich life. Someone who sees value in me. Someone who wouldn’t ever consider putting me down or making me feel like worthless garbage. Someone who listens when I speak and actually responds once I’m finished. Act interested. Someone who actually wants to see me and doesn’t make it seem like a burden.
I get to be on this earth one time, as we all do. I don’t get to go back to 24 or 18 and start over. So, I’m not wasting another minute. Time is too precious, & life could be too good. I’m just robbing myself. I am responsible for feeling this way.
At this point, being ok with being alone is my most refined skill. Great. Let’s refine others though, self.
Time to revamp, redefine, and remind myself that I got this shit.






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