Why don't you understand, that I'm never changing who I am. I don't ever want to let you down. I don't ever want to leave this town. Because after all this city never sleeps at night.
It's been quite a while since I allowed my fingers to write frivolously, expelling only words that I desire. My blogs have provided an outlet for me since I was 12 years old. My first experience blogging began on a website called xanga, transferred to live journal, and has had it's time on facebook and myspace. As I continue to grow I find it more challenging to sit down and write my inner thoughts. At times I feel as though my mind has con-caved in on itself. Who am I? What am I doing with my life?
After Israel, I felt I was certain on who I was. I had "re-found" myself so to speak. I was becoming what I once was. But what was I? I feel as though we never truly understand who we are. This is why an inner dialogue exists between ourselves. Much like Peters argues, I believe the reason we communicate because we don't understand one another. I catch myself talking to myself, intrapersonally inquiring about life. Who I am, where I am going, and where I came from. Do I really know who I was? Is there someone that was present to even be re-found?
It's been about a month since I last ran. It has been about 8 months since the last time I was officially "home" in the city that ceases to sleep. I got engaged. I stopped going on adventures to random places. I gained weight. I stopped singing half my day and writing my blogs. Who am I?
When I lived in Chicago I was a different person. I was a person I loved more, but couldn't appreciate it until I became someone else. When I moved here I kept up running and exercising, but kept telling myself I didn't have to eat healthy anymore. I began to lose motivation to do much of anything. I stopped caring so much about what I looked like, because I didn't feel pressure to be thin anymore. Was this a good thing? No. I still wish I looked the way I desired to. I still want to have the same desires, but the lack of pressure to "look good" from peers makes me unmotivated. I worked hard in Chicago and was determined to make something of myself. I still work hard, but I feel like breaks like this give me too much time to think. I'm not able to preoccupy my mind by throwing packages and editing excel files. Do I miss my life? Some aspects of it yes. Do I love some of my life now? Of course.
I feel like we go through different progressive stages where we figure out what was important to us. We miss those which we were proud of that let fall behind. We enjoy the new things life has brought to us. This isn't going to be an in depth blog. Just a short little confession. I miss Chicago. I miss my friends. I'm happily engaged, but at the same time I face never really having the life I once did. As much as I want to say that life was horrible and I wish to never be brought back to it, I do miss it. Not in a writing mood I suppose. Premature blog and publish.
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