it's been a minute.
nearly three years since the last time i posted on here.
i still come back to read this sometimes.
i guess i should update.
i'm almost 23.
i don't talk to my mom anymore.
i'm not a boxer. i know how to box, but that dream never got off the ground. i'd still like to get into it seriously sometimes, but in the last three years i learned i have a huge problem with sticking to things.
i failed chasing the idea of being an EMT, a firefighter, anything in between.
i learned to exist in the moment. it's where i work best. planning was never my strong suit.
i don't know if i'm happier. i don't know what 'happy' means.
i think i'm in a better place than i used to be. i'm still fucked up, but i'm getting better. or at least, that's what people tell me. i'm not a good judge of myself.
i'm still learning how to treat people i care about. i'm trying to be more careful with my words. it doesn't always work. (i'm sorry jade.)
i've become more confident, i think. i handle social situations better. i still prefer to keep my nose in my phone and my thoughts to myself but i'm not afraid of talking to people.
i'm protective. i know this about myself now. i guess i always knew it, kind of, but recent events have brought it to the forefront of my attention. it's cliche to say it but i refuse to let anyone make my friends feel like shit.
i've been on a plane, now. it was cool. because of that, i'm planning on moving to austin. for the first time in my life, i have savings. i'm trying not to spend too much of it. sometimes i'm good at that, sometimes i spend six hundred bucks on a handgun.
but i told myself i couldn't have the three hundred dollar shotgun so, y'know, baby steps.
i don't know how much of that is self-sabotage and how much of it is me just being bad at handling money.
but i know i've never let myself get this close to success before.
i'm terrified. i'm terrified that rose is going to back out for some reason or other. i'm terrified that i won't be able to do it. i'm terrified that i'll have to come back to albuquerque with my tail between my legs.
my dad told me i'm a glutton for punishment, and i'm realizing right now as i write this that he didn't mean from her.
i'm my own punishment.
and i've been trying to break that habit for years.
i don't know what made me want to write. i'm not particularly sad, or angry. quarantine has left me with more time to think than act, i think.
maybe three years of shit is just too much to hold onto without putting it somewhere.
i just hope i'm better than the person i think i am.
