It's finally happening. I'm on the very brink of learning to be okay - even happy - by myself. There are still definitely days, hours, and weeks that absolutely suck because I realize just how alone I am now. But they are spaced farther and farther apart, and I'm learning to deal with them instead of completely collapsing under their weight. Do I miss having someone, someone who seems to be closer to me than I myself am? God, yes. Now, though, I've been forced to find out who I am without someone else in the equation, and that's been a pretty good journey so far. I have rediscovered the beauty of best friends, close friends, acquaintances, and everything in between. I have restored my bonds with many of those friends. I have spent hours talking about everything under the sun, countless study halls crammed into practice rooms with ugly (but beloved) couches, and too many AP English "work" periods laughing at stupid things. It's been awesome, it's been interesting, and it has proven to be pretty damn valuable. I'm on my way.



You only fall for what you desire or what you fear. - Win Butler

I've definitely found this to be true, at least in the desire department. When you want something so much it's unbearable, it's much more likely that you'll take a wild, blind leap of faith in a desperate attempt to obtain it. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it does have one nasty side effect: risk. You can argue until you're blue about how certain you are of the outcome or the precautions you took, but any way you cut it, your chances of falling skyrocketed when you made that leap. The question here is whether or not it's worth it. Having done it before, I personally think it's a valuable thing, this irrational urge to make a sudden jump to something new because you simply want it. Mind you, my leaps haven't always ended in graceful landings; some of them never made it to the other side, getting lost somewhere in between, and some of them were just plain doomed before they even began. A few have been especially deceptive though, and these are the worst kind known to man, I think: the vertigo ones. These are those leaps that you take a big chance on and you miraculously stick the landing, only to find that your balance is way off, leaving you to wobble around for awhile before falling flat on your ass. But even these instances are worth taking that initial jump.


sunday morning

Two hours of sitting with your best friend in a strangely-crowded coffee shop on a Sunday morning can do wonders. It's this kind of laid-back, low-key bonding that has forced me to drag my sorry butt through the absolute toughest of times, the worst of days, the darkest of hours...you get the idea. Time spent like this is my personal ideal version of therapy.

I never gave much thought to my little sentiment until this morning, sitting in said crowded cafe with Ciera. We were solving the problems of the world and of each other when two familiar faces walked in and sat down a few feet from us. (I'm not trying to be annoying by withholding specific names; it doesn't add any significance, I promise.) For some reason, I felt absolutely floored by this, by the fact that other people indulge in these speed therapy sessions. It makes me extremely happy to know that, in our gigantic world, at least one other pair of friends can find comfort and encouragement in a few hours spent hunched over plastic tables clutching mugs of trendy coffee.

Don't even get me started on the benefits of car therapy...or running therapy.