I don’t think I’m a blogger anymore. Or an actor. Or really even that good of a person. I’ve replaced all of my social media bios with things like “just trying my best” which is cute, and mostly true.
I’ve gotten another tattoo and I had my nails done black and I don’t wear any makeup anymore. And I like the way I look, mostly.
I have a good job and I love what I do and yet sometimes I still have moments of wanting to run away from everything. Some days I want to meet someone to spend the rest of my life with, but most of the time I enjoy being alone.
I’ve gone on 3 dates in the last two weeks. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for in a significant other, but men tell me they like me because I’m bold, and I respond by ordering more wine and laughing.
I’m starting to get over my fears of feeling my own emotions, maybe. I like the feeling of falling in love for a second, or missing home, or anticipation.
Two days ago I got home from a bar at 1am and ate frosting out of the jar with my hands. Yesterday I sexted on a city bus. Today I went to a boxing class. My life is all over the place.
I like attention, still.
I still hate yoga, which sucks because it’s probably good for me.
I like reminding myself of my own cynicism and bitterness, because I think it’s funny, and we’re all going to die eventually anyway.
I’ve stopped taking myself seriously, and I’m happier now.
What I’m trying to say is I’m still figuring it out. I’m in my 20’s and I do mostly try my best and I don’t know what else is going to happen in my lifetime. But I think I’m supposed to be here, figuring it out. I keep telling everyone that because my professional life is so stable now, that something crazy is going to happen to me. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m excited to see.