On certain days, I feel as if the longer I’m here, in this place, the more I begin to realize how perfect this place is for me. On certain days, I look up at the sky and thank God for putting me in a place where I’ve gained so much, amongst people that I’ve learned so much from, whom I’ve grown because of.

Other days I feel a bit lost. I feel as if I need to be somewhere else. As if the flaws in my life stem directly from the environment that I’m in and that I need to venture elsewhere to discover the validity of that statement.

How can certain days feel so different and others just the same as they always have?

There are certain areas of my life that have improved drastically. I see that every semester I spend here I gain something new. Friends, a new sense of purpose or values, insight into the world, acceptance; are all things that I’ve always wanted and are things that I’ve found being here. But other areas of my life seem to be just as stale and static as ever. In those areas it seems nothing has changed and it makes me reconsider my position on how I feel about this place as a whole.

Is what I’ve gained all I can gain from this place? Have I reached my limit? Should I move on?

On one hand I’m more emotionally intact than I’ve ever been. I’m healing, growing, becoming more open to feeling, to acknowledging my emotions, and yet it feels as if I’m still static. Improving, but not acting on these improvements, not because I don’t want to, but because it doesn’t seem possible.

I’ve always been an all at once kind of girl but maybe I should start taking things in strides. I should wait for good things to come from the work I’ve put in, but what if they never come? Should I still wait? Isn’t there a limit on waiting? How long can I realistically wait to be acknowledged? Realistically, how long can I wait to be loved?

Sometimes I feel like I give so much love into the world, but it seems the world is just as selfish as mankind. It takes, but rarely gives back. But is that true? It could be I’ve just been putting eggs in the wrong baskets… but if that’s the case I’m a terrible gambler and probably need to quit while I’m ahead.

This is how it always is.

Can you keep a secret?

I suppose you’ve kept them all…

To me, he’s the perfect basket with the most perfect weaving and if I had a million baskets to choose from I’d still choose that one. Is that a good thing? Absolutely not. It’s painful and ridiculous. I should want a basket that wants me and my eggs (<— How odd…), but I don’t.

It’s a rather familiar feeling. With rather familiar reasoning. Accompanied with a rather familiar pain. Which altogether makes me think that maybe I should work on myself a bit more before I blame my problems on the whole institution.


Stupid baskets…


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