Strange. Unique. Rationally nonsensical.
One day, I would love to be able to quit my job and pursue writing, drawing, and other creative avenues full-time.
Creating and engaging with my imagination is what I was made to do.
I have always vowed to never enter into a long-distance relationship. Never. I don't feel like I am the type of person who can handle having to be physically apart from the person I am romantically involved with for extended periods of time on a consistent basis.
2019 was one of, if not the hardest year of my life. 2019 was, without a doubt, the most transformative year of my life, and in some way or another, many of the challenges and changes that occurred over those 365 days have carried on into 2020.
By now, I hope you have gathered a sense of why I have chosen to title this series "What Are You Doing?" If you still have no clue, I will briefly explain.
It may not be obvious to you, but yes, the countdown has shifted. It was only yesterday that I was counting down from 19 remaining days until the big life change would be in effect, but in the course of a couple of hours, I shaved a whole 96 hours off of the journey.
Charred thumbnails, scorched eyelashes, an anesthetized heart, and a brain coated with a thick layer of balloon static.
One of the biggest lessons I've had to learn lately is how important it is to trust yourself. I can be detrimentally logical at times, to the point where I reason myself out of doing what I truly feel is the right thing. Beyond that, I tend to put the needs and happiness of others far ahead of my own, and I far too often have sacrificed my own success and happiness because someone else doesn't approve, or it isn't in the best interest of another person.
You awaken to an unusual aroma, one that may have been markedly putrid if you hadn't already gone nose-blind to its pungency during your contiguous state of blissful slumber. Strangely enough, this was the first night in quite some time now that you hadn't suffered severe insomnia, a compelling phenomenon considering you ran out of melatonin three nights prior.
I went to bed at 7 PM last night, swaddled in an uncomfortable blanket of self-doubt and systemic claustrophobia. I knew I wouldn't get any rest like this, so I popped an Ativan and scrolled through pages and pages of beautiful vintage dresses that I can't afford until I grew weary and passed out.