I was looking at my blog today, and I’ve been averaging about one blog post per month. Sorry, Four People Who Read My Blog.
Tomorrow I sign the rental agreement for my future home. To some, this isn’t a big deal at all. For me, it’s the “ready, set, go” of adulthood. I’m 21 and have grown so comfortable living with my parents – always having food and toothpaste and silverware. The other day I threw out a box of letters that I have collected over the past ten years. Every letter I’ve ever recieved is now sitting outside waiting for the trashman to come on Monday.
How do I feel about this? Kind of like I’m losing myself. Kind of like insecure. Kind of humbled. Really small.