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I don’t know what to write about but here I am typing away on this damn keyboard.

I am different waves of emotion, happy yet sad yet for some reason boiling with rage. I was in London a short while ago for 9 days with fellow theatre kids from my school; the memories of the trip are too plentiful to record here but just know that I was the happiest I have been with other people in a very long time. Each night was filled with the sounds of my shrill laughter and countless inside jokes I will treasure for years to come.

And I really miss it. God, I miss it. The expectation of my life had melted away, I was my authentic self–nothing held back. All of the thoughts that were echoed from my lips were celebrated by all who listened, and the support and love I felt from the masses was incredible.

Sadly, life seems duller back home. I’ve tried really hard not to feel this way, to not make others feel like their efforts are inadequate, but going from 9 whole days of action filled adventures to idly sitting around your house isn’t the easiest of transitions. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells again; not knowing how to properly act around people in my life is one of my biggest pet peeves. It sounds selfish I know, but I had gotten comfortable with not having to diminish myself for the sake of others.

I had no worries. I could breathe without worrying about the people around me, without having to constantly check up on others. And although you would think being around certain people would worsen my mental health progress, it strengthened it. It allowed me to face my past trauma and stare it straight down–making it cower and shrivel away.

So I fear being back will undo all of that progress, that not being forced to cope with my demons will allow me to relax back into unhealthy habits of over analyzing and bottling up the smallest sign of distress. I just need routine to keep my ever so wandering mind from pulling me near the edge again.

Or maybe a person…I haven’t seriously considered needing a person in my life again. Yes, I’ve professed wanting a body to hold or kiss from time to time, but never really anything meaningful. I miss having something tangible to call my own; a pair of eyes shining brightly, an adorable smile, hands to reach out and hold close to my heart or encircling my face with a touch identical to brush strokes on a canvas.

I think I’ve just had an epiphany.



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