The days are starting to drag by in a monotony of job applications, job searching, cleaning the house, going for runs, and all of the other random things I have become involved in since moving here again. I don't really have any days that are that boring or empty, because I always manage to find something useful or fun to do. But there's nothing that is challenging my brain lately, and I feel like it's going to mush. There's not enough work at the mall to challenge my body either, and even after a good run, I'm rarely ever tired enough to actually fall asleep without tossing and turning. The stress factor probably adds a good deal to my insomnia.
As resolute as I've been to keep the faith, I'm starting to doubt that I made the right choice moving back here. I had thought about it a lot, prayed about it, and I thought it was where I needed to go. But almost 2 months later, it's easy to doubt myself now.
I'm starting to feel trapped here, hemmed in. If it weren't for all the people I would hurt, I could seriously just hop a plane for parts unknown right now and leave it all behind. Start all over again somewhere else. I've been on my own long enough and far enough away from the familiar that it doesn't scare me that much anymore. Truthfully, the familiar almost scares me more. I hate ruts probably worse than I hate change. Yes, I realize that I'm a walking paradox.
If I don't belong here, if I'm not supposed to be here, then where am I supposed to be? This is ridiculous. I don't know another word for it. I'm not much when you condense me.... not really that amazingly great at anything. But I'm not prepared to settle for ordinary, for meaningless, for monotony. I'm not prepared to be nobody. I'm 27 years old, and I'm tired of waiting.
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