For the longest time I believed and expressed the fact that I was weird. I loved getting messy, collecting trinkets from antique stores and little shops, playing quest filled video games, writing stories I'd never finish, and singing randomly wherever I went. The world would look at me with confusion and even sometimes disdain but I kept trekking forward. After a while when I realized the majority of the world couldn't process my behavior I began to call myself weird. At first I glowed at the fact that I was weird. People would invite me into their worlds and I wouldn't go and somehow deep down I felt better for being set apart. After years of this it began to feel lonely. I had family, sure, but they didn't feel like the friends I so desperately wanted. Inevitably I began to dip my toes into the habits and nature of the world. I dressed up and it felt good to look my best. I drank coffee and it made me sophisticated to have this magic substance that never got drank ...
This is a blog about a young woman who is trying to learn a little late in life how to LIVE without being immature, unhealthy, or pedantic. If you feel like you're constantly fighting an uphill battle of the world but need a "place" then join me on my self-seeking journey and maybe we can help each other learn how to be us while still being sober.