Ah…just short of twenty-nine now and you would’ve thought I’ve finally learned to pick my battles, but I am startlingly consistent, diving head long into everything that is terrifyingly difficult, and perhaps unnecessary. In old age, I find, I must learn to pick my battles.
Maybe I don’t need to run away- from cities, and people, and knowns to unknowns; maybe I don’t have to constantly alienate my own.
I’m learning to accept a few things about me, I do not like travelling alone, I like walking through new cities, and I detest shallow social situations. I don’t like drinking on airplanes, I cannot dance but love it anyway, and I cannot change people. I cannot!
I’m beginning to believe that growing up is finding peace in your truths, but also staying true to your truths. It is about surrounding yourself by the people and things you want to be; there is little time for contempt, for ill-will for wasted time.
I am anxious about the choices I have made, but mostly about the choices I continue to make…
There is after all, only one road home. Always.