This blog feels like home. The cover is outdated (top picture poorly photo shopped of my favorite things at the time) and the theme is a little 2011-cliche, but I still feel butterflies when I come back here to write because it's where my drive and desire to be somebody all started. It's where I visually posted my dreams, wrote from my heart, and where I lusted and coveted my favorite fashion pieces of the moment. I'm not even sure why I come back here, since I have a WordPress now, but I don't feel like WordPress is home. This sweet little spot is mine, all mine, and it just feels right. Maybe it's because when I made this blog I really wanted so badly the Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 because I thought it would elevate me (it did in some ways), and now that I have one, I'm wearing it today ironically (fresh out of storage over the weekend), I come here and I feel a sense of accomplishment. Even superficially, it feels good. But I know I've accomplished even more than that, as this blog is a reflection of my twenties and all the chaos that went down with it. It's been through every relationship, every hurt, every purchase, and everything in between the ups and downs of a twenty-something young woman. Here I am typing, I'll be thirty-two this year, and I envy my naive twenty-something self. She didn't know she'd end up here, half alive and half dead inside with a severe mounting depression and several heart shatters later. I've got a few gray hairs I don't bother plucking anymore, I hardly make the effort to slap on makeup daily, and my hair is never perfectly polished like I'd dreamed it would be by now. Yep, almost thirty-two and I still don't have my "shit together". What the fuck does that even mean anymore anyways? My rent is paid, my bills are paid, my family is somewhat alive still, and I have my health...a little. At least that's some shit that is actually together. I guess I figured I'd find a day when everything felt accomplished and everything felt "in its place". I haven't. Almost 10 years have flown by (and I do mean flown) and I'm still as lost as ever inside. The things I thought I wanted, I don't even know if I ever did, and the people I thought would always be there aren't. It's like I'm starting completely over and that is very scary. I feel manic and unhappy most days at work when I have no reason to be anything but grateful. For some reason I just cannot find the luster or spark of joy in the simple things anymore. I wasted a whole weekend online window-shopping instead of stimulating my surroundings and loved ones and sharing a beautiful weekend memory with them. I feel ashamed, I feel scared, and I feel embarrassed. The key is within me and yet I've lost the fucking key. What are we if we are not our habits? I desperately (I hate using this word, but it's true here) want to fight for the life I've day-dreamed about for most of my young adult life. I want it all, and I don't want to add a "but" in here ...I just want to make it happen! Currently trying to pull myself together this Monday, write down some to-do's, and hold myself accountable. I know I can do this, I've just got to pull into my soul and find the passion I've lost and haven't regained. It can't just disappear forever, if it was ever there in the first place, it's still there.
