So this week marks a year in Texas. Again. I find myself circling back to this place every few years... and my step dad is right. I don't like it here. I wish I could say that I am adjusting to the notion of living in this place, but I am not. I'm not sure I ever will. I don't know about this place, the person I am here, what I feel I am becoming... I'm not this person. I'm not a woman who can just sit at a desk and stare at a computer and be this boring useless person. I sit through meetings I don't understand and I take notes about things I couldn't care less about... it's painful.
I wish that I knew what I really wanted. I wish that I had the passion that some seem to be born with, or even the persistance to develop that kind of desire, but I find it hard to care about much of anything for too long. There are all of these dreams locked up inside myself. Maybe because I'm afraid, maybe because I'm insecure... mostly because if I fail, then all I am is ordinary... and I'm not sure I am strong enough for that.
