Now is the first time in my life that I have done everything I wanted to do. No focus on men, a job, school. My sole responsibility is me, which is more of a responsibility considering I have never taken care of myself. Love is hard to accept sometimes, even when it comes from yourself.
When I wake up in the morning, I decide to cry. I decide not to eat breakfast. I decide to research and make phone calls. I decide to work out. I decide to eat good food and not junk. I decide my body looks amazing. I spend a lot of time in the mirrors trying to find myself, physically and emotionally. I cry a lot. I think need to. Sometimes I think something is wrong with me. Sometimes I think I am watering the dirt until the flowers grow.
I have a routine, but then again my life is a free for all. And I’m OK with that. I am living in the freedom I always wanted. I am working toward the goals I always dreamed.
So I then must ask myself, why does this feel so sad? How can someone have everything she wants and still feel empty? There are times when I miss my own voice, my own laugh. I still don’t have real smiles. I feel more like me than I did last month, but there is still more me to find. Finding Donna is like pulling a scarf out of a clown’s pocket. Who knows when the gag ends.
I am grateful for now. I am fully aware of everything that I have been blessed with. Yet I am fully aware that something’s missing. Awareness is better than false security, fogs and half truths. Late nights pacing the floors of truth is better than sleeping in a bed of lies. Resting now would be an unwanted luxury.
