great expectations

"for an hour or more, i remained too stunned to think; and it was not until i began to think, that i began fully to know how wrecked i was, and how the ship in which i had sailed was gone to pieces." charles dickens, great expectations

when i was younger, as in, really, just a few years ago, i thought i knew exactly what i wanted. in fact, everyone knew exactly what i wanted because i told them.

i wanted to live in a big city.

i wanted to start my career right after i graduated.

i wanted to start my life, i thought. the only way to do that was to have a “real job,” and be successful.

but now, i don’t think i entirely know what i want.

the 18-year-old version of myself would hate the 22-year-old me because i’m so indecisive and flakey. she would think i’m being lazy because i’m not making decisions. she would hate my flip-flopping tendencies on post-grad plans, my irritation towards people who’ve got it all together, and my decreased use in written planners and sticky notes.

she wouldn’t understand me.

it is so crazy to me to think about how much has changed in my life in four years. not only would 18-year-old me dislike and disagree with who i’ve become and the choices i’ve made, she wouldn’t recognize herself in me.

a barely washed, dishwater blonde hair turning more brunette every day, dr. marten and all-black wearing hooligan. she’d judge the carton of strawberry stems and leaves drying up next to my bed, the scattered bits and pieces of paper on my windowsill, sticking out of four unfinished books and journals. she would HATE that i want to move back to michigan. she wouldn’t be able to understand my single life because she’s never really known what it’s like to be by herself. she’d be jealous of my tattoo, but only because she’s wanted one for so long… she would dislike what it is and what it represents.

but i wonder… would she be disappointed in me? would she understand? would she still love me?

because i still love her.

there is so much emphasis put on learning to love yourself, but no one ever really talks about whether that is who you are now, or who you’ve been in the past. maybe we learn to love ourselves in stages. maybe we learn to love in bits and pieces, one at a time.

and right now, i’m kind of in love with the fact that i don’t have a strong desire to find a “real” job when i graduate… that i can do whatever i want, whatever i find (or whatever finds me) without expectation. i’m in love with my dirty nails and my piles of half-read books. i love the folder in my computer of partially written essays, because all good things take time.

and i know i’ve said this more than one time, more than two times, more than a million times… but despite the sometimes loneliness, i am really in love with being by myself. would i like to be dating someone? my initial reaction is yes, but my very smart second thoughts say, “no.” in fact they say one of those no’s that also sounds like a laugh. like, “ahaha, nooooooooo.”

i might not be who i thought i’d be, or where i thought i’d be at 22, but i’m pretty fucking pleased with myself… despite the fact that it’s after noon and i haven’t brushed my hair, or my teeth, yet.