The last few months have been trying.
Trying to find hope. Happiness. Satisfaction. Comfort. Shutting out friends and family. Lonely.
Happiness was a chore. Smiling? Impossible.
Sad. Mad. Weak. Dark. Bored. Uninspired.
I got so caught up in the big bad stuff, that I forgot about the small great stuff.
The smell of Banana Bread baking. A crisp fall day, where you need a sweater but you can still feel the heat of the sun on your face. The feel of a clean apartment. A good laugh with my girlfriends. Great sex with my boyfriend. Folding laundry. Curling up with a great book. A beautiful sunset.
All things I need and can not live without.
The only option left was to run away. Plane ticket. Take off. Landing. Freedom. I could start over, where no one knows me. I could be whoever I want.
I wish I could say this thought doesn't still cross my mind, but that would be a lie.
However, I don't feel like it is my only choice anymore. I feel like a can handle the life that I have been given. I feel like I can close my eyes, adjust, and figure it out. Whatever IT may be.
Somehow, through the fog and blurred edges I made myself sit still instead of running away, and in doing this, I found my way home. A place that houses my security, my confidence, my strength. A place I have been running from for a year.
As I wipe my feet on the welcome mat, I exhale.
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