I’ve never felt like I fit in with anyone. I don’t fit in with my family because I’m more educated. I don’t fit in with my friends because I’m introverted. I don’t fit in with my colleagues because I’m not single and ready to party at the drop of a hat. The only one I’ve ever felt connected with is T, who I won’t be living with again for nine months. So until then, this journal will be an experiment. I used to keep a journal – when I was thirteen years old I wrote my thoughts and feelings down every day. It was healthy. I vented my little thirteen year old thoughts onto paper and suddenly the world made sense.
So maybe I want to try to do the same thing now. I have to admit I’m not fine most days. I’m navigating a stressful new job as a law clerk. I’m desperately and completely in love with T, who lives 382 miles away and am planning on moving to be with him. I feel like my whole family thinks I’m making a huge mistake and am just waiting to crash and burn. I know in my heart that what I’m doing is right, but I can’t prove it to anyone yet. Oh and to top off this emotional rollercoaster, I have to take another bar exam in approximately three months. I have to have my shit together. So here we are journal… we meet again. Here’s to at least another nine months – you’re an experimental “baby”, if you will.
So this is me. I’m twenty-five years old, in the real world for the first time. And the real world’s a scary place.