It's the eve of my 25th birthday, and I've felt so much building to this point; the quarter life crisis, the paralysis of this place in my life, etc. I don't have a name for it, though I named a story with a similar sensibility, "Twentysomething," because that felt most true.
Here's the thing: I think it's difficult talking about the trying times in our lives when we're in the trenches. In retrospect, they seem easier, maybe even manageable, because we've already made our way through them. But in the moment, the dark days seem darker, and the world seems scary.
I could tell you about the months of feeling incomplete and nowhere near enough of the person I used to be. I could tell you a story about moving an hour away from my hometown and living out of boxes for a month. But what I want you to remember is not so much that I lived in a mess, but that I was a mess. I found myself feeling bitter, not better. Now, I feel like life is too difficult some days to not be on the verge of greatness. And there is the moment before coffee when the world still feels impossible, but I face it; I'm stubborn I suppose.
I was recently told that maybe, it was time to give up on my dream. It was in the moment, but still the words existed. They were real. And if I were someone else, maybe I'd have listened. But like I said, I'm stubborn. I'm a dreamer. I'm a writer.
But you know this. There are certain things you know from this blog, and other things you'll never know. I'm hoping to share more of the unknown with all of you.
I'm going back to my weekly posting schedule to keep the moments of this journey clear, and here's what you can expect in the posts to come:
1.) Stream-of-consciousness writing, and how it's helped me find consistency
2.) Writing along with the Plath Poetry Project
3.) Completing my first poetry collection
4.) Tour of the writing cave
5.) Querying process
6.) And more!
So. Much. More.
There are too many things I want from this life. I want work I love, and I want my words to find their place in the universe. I want to read a book and love it. I want to love reading again. I want to love the days while they're happening. I want to find happiness.
And there are too many words, and not enough time; the minutes move by, and I'm almost 25.
One thing I know for sure: I used to believe in putting good into the universe. But maybe it's just giving good to yourself.
So be good to yourselves.