Somehow I feel like I owe you an apology… it’s not entirely your fault.

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you that I let petty fears get in my way. But in all honesty, you are not that bad.

Maybe it’s just me who never really learned how to deal. Maybe it’s me always putting reasons for things that weren’t meant to be placed a reason to. that didn’t make sense.

So many things I wish I could say but maybe I need to be a bit more careful when I say them.

In due time.

I guess that’s the thing about the past… you don’t really know what to do with it.

You can either be sad and sulk about it or muster everything you have in you and just face the ugly truth. You screwed you, you can’t do anything about it and forever will you have to live with the horrible stories of “that one time…”

I don’t know though. What do I do with a past like mine? And what do I do with things I want to say that I might regret not saying..

I get insecure because first of all, I am not them and second of all, because I will never be them and quite frankly, I’m not always sure if that’s a good thing.

I get sad at the thought that they are not people you nor anyone would call stupid. They’re pretty and well groomed, stable and truth of the matter is, everyone wishes they were them. And I’m just a scruffy girl anyone would mistake as a boy any day.

I am remorseful that I didn’t leave so much for you to conquer. That you had to take me in with so much baggage when they have much less than a hand bag to check out.

Maybe because I know and I will always know that I’m no good for you. And even if I try to be, I usually find myself at a loss. Always wondering what things would be like if you had not left your key.

After all, what am I but dead weight? What am I but this person with no direction, probably no future, someone stupid and irresponsible? And what are they?

Everything I’m not.

And I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing.

I am not a workaholic. Because when you’re doing something you FINALLY love, it doesn’t feel so much like work.

I am not a workaholic. Because it is not depriving me of the things that I want… it is supporting it. I thrive for success and I enjoy stress- so I think this is good for me.

I am not a workaholic. Because I have never been so driven in my whole life. I have dreams, yes- but to have an outlet that will lead me to that success has finally been identified and I think that is what motivates me the most.

You know, to one day be able to buy that car, and that house I promised my mom. A home with a lawn where I can watch my kids grow and well, stability and a good life. Because when that time comes, I’d like to think that I deserved it. Because I worked hard for it. Because I put my heart and soul into it.

Maybe sometimes I need to put a filter a bandwidth or some form “rest” but… I don’t think I deprive myself of those worldly wants either. So I’m okay.

Hey, I just bought myself a pretty pink cut out dress… that is me rewarding myself.

Maybe I’ll buy myself a book, too. Or take Casey & Miguel out to a movie. Or finally learn how to cook.

I know this sounds so boring but in my head… I feel like I’m about to throw a BIIIIG party!

#yolo hahahah