Explore

Practicing writing for self exploration does not an identity find.
-I don't know what I want yet.
-I don't know my purpose yet either.
-Dark thoughts have not disappeared.

I used to be happy no matter what. Nothing could get me "down." I'd never experienced actual sadness. I scoffed at depression. "No one is incapable of happiness; they just need to choose happiness!"

I was wrong.

Now I know what it feels like and it is nothing like a sadness. It is agony. Emptiness. Vulnerability. Self loathing.

Kurt Vonnegut says not to use semicolons; I love them.

This whole thing is hard on my husband. He wants me to be happy. He desires to be enough to fulfill me. I want him to be. Should be be? Either God or my Christian school upbringing suggest that I will be fulfilled if I turn my life over to HIM. I want to know who is telling me to do so before I make any decisions.

I feel like moving to a new place will fix everything. Move to a city. A city with real jobs and not tourism-run West Virginia. Freedom? Opportunity? Where are you guys? They were such pretty ideas growing up.

I should have been a baker. I'm good at baking. Cupcakes are my specialty.