I’ve had a lot of things going on in my head lately, a lot of feelings that I haven’t really had anyone to share with. I know when it starts to become too much because it’s like I can feel my body and mind start to fill up and threaten to overflow. Sometimes I think I feel too much, but that doesn’t really help because either way, I need an outlet.
Being in TX, and now being mostly alone in TX, has been hard. Like, really hard. But I’m trying to think of it as a retreat of some sort, a period of time I can use to grow and challenge myself and learn things about myself that wouldn’t have otherwise surfaced.
One of things that has become my greatest life raft are stories. I find myself intentionally drowning in them, consuming them, and creating them, at a rate I haven’t experienced since I was a child. When things are too much, when I don’t have anything else to do, I read or write. I lose myself in another world or I challenge myself to take out the pen and build a new around me. It’s beautiful and it gives me hope. It keeps me alive, and I couldn’t be more grateful. If I go back home with only this love rekindled, reinforced, then I will consider this experiment a success.
But that is still months away, and even then not set in stone. So I’ll keep waking up every day and trying to get everything out of it that I can. I’ll keep working at the bookstore that I love, enjoying to time I have with the couple of friends I do know here, and challenging myself to take advantage of every new opportunity that comes my way.