My Own Life

I’m finally realizing I spent a lot of my life believing it made sense because of the people in it. Who loved me. Who stayed. Who left. Who hurt me. And somewhere in all of that, I forgot that this was supposed to be my life.

I’m not trying to put everything back together anymore. I don’t even want it back the way it was. I want to find out who I am when I’m not building my life around keeping someone else in it.

She jumps out of airplanes. She wants to go places, try things, scare the shit out of herself and find out what’s on the other side of fear. She’s learning how to be a better friend. She’s learning boundaries. She’s learning that she can deeply want people in her life without needing them to become her life.

I still don’t know what happens next. I don’t know whats going to happen with the house, who will be beside me,  or what ridiculous thing I’ll decide I need to do next.

And for once, I don’t need to know.

This part isn’t about finding the next person, fixing the last chapter, or racing toward an ending where everything finally makes sense.

Maybe it’s just about finally being here for my own life.