What I feared the most was being encountered with those unresolved feelings. It was no one's job but mine and I had been so good at dodging the bullets, but staring down the barrel there's nowhere to run. I have to face the sentiment, the beating heart, the spiraling, the anger, the sadness of it all.
I made the right choices back then, still, I'm not who I wanted to be, who I thought I'd become once I escaped and it made me wonder.
It didn't seem like a problem until a couple of days ago, then something snapped, I realized how old I was going to be and although I've never shied away from a number on a cake, became acutely aware of what I envisioned for myself at 34 and acutely aware of the miles of distance between who I am and who I always thought I'd be by now.
It's not anyone's fault, just false expectations and a sense of being able to plan life as we want. A total lie. I'm alright in general, a work in progress, making teeny tiny steps into what I want. Actually, scratch that. Making teeny tiny steps into understanding who I've always been.
