Twenty-fifteen. It's hard to believe where we are. I have someone else's words echoing in my head, having said it better than I ever could: "I felt like last year I never truly enjoyed the year… I never felt in it. Not being into each task and found myself always floating way to something else. STAY and remember you have time to do it all."
Yes. Just, yes.
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I'm going to write that today is a good day, because it is. It has been. And I will appreciate that no matter what the rest of the day brings.
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This morning before I got out of bed, I was catching up on some blog reading on my phone, and I read something particularly moving: "The only thing you need to do to be happy is: suspend judgment on yourself."
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I was scribbling a note in my Lena Dunham book when I saw DJ approaching me. When he sees a pen of any kind it's as though he has tunnel vision, so I knew he was coming right for it. Without giving it much thought, I pushed the red Pentel pen trough my ponytail before he could notice.
It wasn't until three hours later, after a quick trip to Mc Donalds to procure an iced coffee the size of my head and some serious one-on-one playtime that I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the bedroom. I still had the pen in my hair.
Seeing myself like that: wild, curly hair, donned in a hoodie and jeans with the tell tale pen tucked into my hair, I was transported back to my College days. It was me, years eighteen through twenty-two, back when I thought life was easy and that everything would work out as long as I 1) found a good job post graduation, 2) moved out of my parents house, and 3) never stopped writing.
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In a little over two months from now I'll be getting my breast implants, and despite my good intentions, I'm terrified of what people are going to think of me. I'm always too concerned with what people will think of me...
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xo,
rdg
