So September got away from me, particularly at the end there, but I’ll be damned if October suffers a similar fate.
A good friend of mine posted an inspiring status on Facebook today, that said something like, “When the first day of the month falls on a Monday, it’s a good time to start something new.” I couldn’t agree more.
I know this blog is filled with promises that are both empty and broken, but such is my life. Today, I ran until the pavement ended and my lungs were heaving and desperate for oxygen. I was so proud of myself – elated, even – but when I returned home, I ate too many french fries. What’s up with that? I’m honestly beginning to fear that I create tiny melodramas for myself. The reason why I would engage in such juvenile behavior is beyond me, unless I am simply refusing to admit that I am nothing more than a silly, stupid girl who is trying too hard to be a woman.
Work is enjoyable and challenging. I am happy but at times, I am overwhelmed. I wanted to use the weekend that just passed to catch up on grades and whatnot, but Missy came up with the family. I was displaced, allowing them to use my bedroom as a homebase and thereby relinquishing my office space, for lack of a better term. I like to think I am a people pleaser because I generally want those around me to feel happy, blessed, unique and singular, but I’m nervous I do it because I’m a martyr. Contrary to cinema, there is nothing romantic about being the victim. It is weak and violating and awful. I want to be stronger, but wanting and doing are two very different things, no matter how hard I try to rationalize.
Tomorrow, I will be better.
Thank you for your patience.