beginnings

A new start.

The impossible luxury of a completely new beginning. New name, new hair, new face/boobs/legs/nose. But new personality? I don't think so.

So many years trying to escape the truths. No, I was not possibly an alcoholic. No, I'm not living in my parents house. No, I did not make a series of bad decisions and lost many of my (and here I'll put acquaintances, because "friends" seems a bit much.) No, I do not curse like a sailor. No, I did not just binge-watch Bojack Horseman for the last couple hours.

No, no, no, no, NO.

But sometimes what's more damaging than the No's are sometimes the Yes's.



Yes, I love my job. Yes, it is very fulfilling. Yes, I love living with my family. Yes, I don't regret leaving college. Yes, I generally like my friends. Yes, I'm working on a soon-to-be, world-famous novel.
Yes, I believe in myself.

And then there's the Maybe's.

Maybe I can do this? Maybe I can be successful? Maybe I can move out? Maybe I can support myself? Maybe I can - Okay, I'm done with this now.

The point is, I don't really know who I am. Or maybe I do and I'm lying to myself. Okay, THE POINT IS. I've spent all this time being someone else, blogging like I'm an elegant writer, a sweet cooking mama, a super depressed emo corner child. So I'm just going to write. Write, and maybe I'll find myself at the end of it. Maybe I won't. I'm not really looking for anything, I guess.. like I'm walking for the hell of it, which no destination in mind.

So no, this is not a rainbow-filled "journey of self", complete with tunic wearing Shamans and Chong gazing out through his purple specs telling me "It's all good, man." I don't really know why I'm doing this. Does it matter?