I'm looking back at my life, all the times that I've said, "I am definitely not like that."
I think back on the last eighty-six days of my life, each little brick in the wall that has added up to the me that sits here, on the third floor, midday. I look at the moments of self-hatred, those days when everything felt sharp and the air felt abrasive against my skin. I feared-- insecurity masqueraded as trying to get a grip. "I'm not like that," I said. I pushed a lot of people away. I forged ahead, leaving behind a lot of important people-- people I still need and want and yearn for. I look back at the last eighty-five days and am thankful for grace, thankful that the shirt I wear today reminds me that all is a journey, that there is forgiveness for those days that i doubted, those days I hated, those days I slandered, the days that I killed people in my heart in attempt to keep them from killing me first.

I look in the mirror and see a girl who was frightened, yet pressured. Despite my fears, I pushed on, pushed myself, challenged myself, seeking. Just to be Somebody, whoever the hell that is. And here I am today realizing I need a lot of grace, a lot of forgiveness, a lot of room to breathe because I swing aimlessly and violently.

Equilibrium. The thought of staying here for a while is soft and comfortable and reassuring. This morning I lay in my bed reading about the inequalities, the segregation, and the pull didn't feel as strong. I wonderig if i would ever move or if I would just stay under the covers forever. part of me shouts and accusation of "sell-out" while another part whispers "content."

I have grown content with the small life I used to despise. More than ever I am relieved by the few small relationships that I do have-- I don't covet anymore. I am comfortable with a few people knowing me well. It feels more manageable. I have this sense that I just want to go back-- to work subtractively, whiting out areas-- to go back to embrace the people that already know, who are already there, to worry less about building fortresses. It feels easy and calm-- the pressure is off and I am able to breathe again.

I long for the comfrot of those who have been a part of me before. People I don't have to explain myself to. And I am in the process of redefining some of those things, but I need to go back to the freedom to build those layers slowly. To stop expecting immediate results, to give myself the freedom to struggle with transition, to be small and afraid and insecure-- to start being honest about that.

So the semester is nearly over and I see things evening out, I begin to get a grasp on things for the moment. The world seems to be spinning abit slower and I look forward to another semester in a place I can call home, the idea of spending the summer in a familiar place. someone said to e that I seem more present now, that all the turmoil of change has slowed down and I am able to live my life here-- I can see for the first time in a long time I'm not thinking about, worrying about another move, another change, another transition. Maybe this is why w edon't get to know all that the future holds from the beginning... maybe.