Not with a person – but with the riddle of life.
It’s Sunday, and I’m in love.
We can all agree that the past four years have been wonky.
I can’t help but feel behind in my pursuit of success.
There are goals that I can’t see the finish line to anymore.
It isn’t a cause for alarm necessarily.
Rather, confirmation that we’re not alone.
“Am I too late to the party or right on time?”
I’m not the only person feeling this way.
I’m not too self-important to admit that.
What is starting over in my 30s supposed to look like?
I’ve spent so much time letting others dictate my worth.
The jaw surgeries I had changed my smile.
I don’t look like me.
There isn’t any other way to describe the feeling of not recognizing myself in the mirror.
I’ve let too many people tell me who I am.
“You’re an open book, Kelsey.”
A college mentor said to me on my last day of Sophomore year.
“Am I, though?
I don’t think that many people see me.
Granted, I don’t exactly let them see me.
How well do we actually all know each other?
Is the depth too scary to dive headfirst into?
Writing has been my most consistent hobby.
I had anxiety attacks as a kid over the concept of a “9-5”.
All my film projects in high school were love stories.
I want to throw up when I see a booger.
I spent my 20s pursuing everyone else’s dreams more than my own.
My four-year-old dream was to be a dog.
My teenage dream was to be an actress.
I did pursue acting in my early 20’s but I switched to fitness at 25.
My love for acting hasn’t waned a bit.
I’ve spent years attracting “friends” who’ve affirmed my low feelings of self.
Life is a game of chance and I’m not losing per se.
But lately, I have been playing it safe.
I crave answers to riddles.
What will the world look like next year?
How do I get out of this creative slump?
Will you still love me if I’m “me”?
Will you still love me while I figure out what that means?
“I coulda been a contender, Charlie.”
But maybe I still can be.
It’s Sunday, and I’m in love.
Photo by Lisha Riabinina on Unsplash