We All Grow Up (Eventually)

Last we spoke, I mentioned briefly that I found my own apartment. Since everything went pretty well, I’m happy to say that I’m sitting at my own kitchen table, in my very first apartment, writing this. However, I’m at a loss for words to describe what living in my own home has taught me about the world because it all seems like a jumbled mess when I look back on it.

For lack of a better way to put it, the past month and a half have truly been “the best of times” and “the worst of times” all at once (thanks, Dickens). It’s as if I can see all the good and bad moments pieced together overhead, aware that after each dip is a rise and each peak, a fall. And to be totally honest, it’s giving me anxiety just learning how to cope with what “adults” know is normal. It sounds kind of pathetic on “paper” but sometimes I just want life to be consistent so I can categorize it as something, wrap my brain around it for once. If it’s good, be good for a while. If it’s bad, be bad for a while. In life, the rollercoaster is not my cup of tea (which reminds me, I left my now very cold tea in the microwave 🙄) especially since I’m almost certain I’m wired to see the dips and falls a whole lot more clearly than the triumphant peaks.

I wouldn’t say highlighting those falls is a result of me being pessimistic. In fact, I’d argue that I’m fatalistically positive. Like so-positive-that-I-set-myself-up-for-disappointment-positive. Tonight, I realized why that is and as many of you know, writing is what I do when I realize stuff so here it is.

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