Another city, another try. The last time I’ve lived on my own I wrote about how unhappy I was. And here I am, one year and a lot of journal entries later, trying again. Hopefully this time around I’ll be happier.
A lot has changed in a year. I’ve learned to be more confident, to be stronger. I worked a retail job where the ugliest personalities would come in and tell me what I did and didn’t do right. It would’ve broken 19 year old me. But 20 year old me’s still standing. Taking in everything and simply saying ‘thank you and have a nice day’. Having worked at that job has prepared me for my internship in a way I didn’t think was possible.
My internship. Something I’ve been dreading all summer. Not because I’m not excited, but because the critic in me is in constant fear of not being good enough. Finally being able to write all day for five months brings out the little kid on christmas morning in me. Still, I’m very very anxious and scared of failure. But in failure we see growth. So that’s what I’m gonna keep telling myself.
The past few months have been about moving on. I’ve learned no one owes me their time and effort, so if they don’t want to invest their time and effort in me, that’s okay. Forcing someone to be in your life is toxic and I’m sorry to anyone I might’ve hurt. I was still learning that people can walk out of your life as easily as they walk into it. I’ve learned that having a handfull of loving, caring and supportive friends is all I need. Having them in my life is enough to make me feel full and happy constantly. And if they choose to leave, I’ll have to let them.
Writing this from my couch, watching Pocahontas while my roommate’s playing his music a little too loud, is somewhat comforting to me. Having a place to call my own again is something I’ve truly missed, even though it didn’t work out last time. I have a feeling this time will be different.
Life’s all about growth, baby. Let’s grow together.