Why I Write (And Share Excessively)

Coffee and a keyboard... get it?
Coffee and a keyboard… get it?

Contrary to my social media activity and excessive blog post sharing, I am actually a decently closed off person.

I hardly ever cry even though I am a pretty sensitive person (and if you see me start to tear up I’ll talk about how dumb I am for a solid five minutes and then proceed to apologize for even longer), I have a hard time opening up to certain people (that’s all I’m saying about that one), and I’m sometimes a really awkward cuddler and/or hugger (please, just let me console you with my words).

I’ve been writing on my own, little thoughts like these, for a few years now.

Pressing the “post” button on Facebook for the first time a few weeks ago was anything but easy.

It’s scary to share your thoughts about your life and experiences for all of your friends and acquaintances to see.

It’s scary to open up, and as a self-conscious “worrywart,” I’m pretty sure it’s even scarier.

I write these blogs because, well, I love it, but also because I want to share my experiences with you, and if you read them (thanks by the way), I want to help you with yours.

No, I don’t disclose everything that is going on in my life and in my head. No, I never will. That’s what different relationships are for- for us to find people that we can open up to and share things with that we wouldn’t share with anyone else. That includes your relationship with yourself.

However, yes, I will share relevant thoughts. Yes, I will share things that I think others might relate to. Yes, I will share things that inspire me (sorry about your newsfeed, I’m pretty easily inspired if you hadn’t noticed).

When I write, I’m not worried about the clock and I’m not thinking about what else I need to do, things that are otherwise a constant (blog post to come once I figure that one out).

I’m okay with wasting time doing it, because it doesn’t feel like wasted time at all. Writing is what I want to do right now and it is what I will want to do when I wake up (after my first cup of coffee of course). Writing has helped me with some of my internal conflicts. Writing continues to help me to see the world a little bit clearer every day.

By reflecting on what has happened, I am able to wake up each day with a better understanding of how I want to live and who I want to be.

Do I know it all? Absolutely not. Will I sometimes write different musings and then look back with disagreement? Probably. Will everyone that reads these be touched in someway? Ha, no. But for now, this is what makes me happy, and it is my hope that it not only benefits me, but a few others as well.

Writing is my way of figuring out what is going on in my crazy head, but it is also my way of helping others, inspiring others, relating to others and touching others (I hope).

And if at times “others” refers to just one person, that’s okay, because that one person might be the one that needs it the most (including myself).


Identity: Ballerina

photoYou have 160 characters to describe yourself in your Twitter bio. As an aspiring branding specialist, I care a lot about how my profile comes across (hence the profile picture change at least 3 times a week).

So, how am I going to position myself… Aspiring journalist? Okay, that’s what I am. Aspiring writer? So hipster, yeah that definitely has to be in there. Aspiring public relations professional? That sounds nice, add it. Ballerina? Well, duh.

This piece of writing has taken me awhile to put together, and even longer to actually press “Publish.” Not because I’m worried about people reading it, not because it’s an end all, but because it’s me coming to a major life realization. Not because it’s eloquently written or has any profound ideas, but because it’s not something I was fully ready to write, and I don’t know if I ever will be.

To be fair, this topic requires a book to truly express the immense meaning it has in my life, but this is a blog and I would lose more interest than I already have, so here it goes.

I began dancing when I was around three years old. My mom took me to the Nutcracker as a toddler, and I was (so she says) enthralled by it-all of it. Not many children that young are that captivated by a performance with no words or audience interaction. So from there, she put me in ballet and “the rest is history.”

As I grew and time went on, ballet became more and more apparent in my life.

Dance wasn’t a hobby. Dance wasn’t an extracurricular I did just because. Dance was my passion and my dream.

Hours were spent in class and rehearsals. Summers were spent on the East Coast at different professional training schools. Sacrifices were made, joy was had.

Along the way, I was told that I could, should and would be a professional ballet dancer. Some days, that is what I wanted with all of my heart. Others, it wasn’t at all.

I can see now that amidst the praise, the criticism, the corrections, the passion, the love and the discipline- I slowly made decisions that were leading me to the reality of my future.

I first made the decision to not move away to attend a performing arts high school in pursuit of my dream, in exchange for a normal high school life with my friends and family. I then chose to go to college directly after high school, a school that didn’t offer a dance major at all.

Looking back, it seems as though I always knew.

It’s not easy to give up on something you hold so near to your heart. It’s not easy to give up on a dream that is so idolized by yourself and others, one that if you just tried a little harder, would be right in your grasp.

It’s not easy to move on from one of your passions.

Since coming to school, I have danced with different companies around town, performed here and there, and taken classes when I was able. But it was never enough.

It’s not easy to get back into something you were once so well-versed in. It’s not easy to try to do something you were always able to do, and feel yourself falling short of your old standards.

The other day, I looked back at my writing from the past few years. There remained one constant in all of my desires for self-improvement. I was constantly wishing I would get back into dance, full-on. I was constantly hoping that I could train every day, lose weight, strengthen my body and get back to where I used to be and surpass it.

Goals were set, and goals weren’t met.

So why didn’t I just do it?

It’s not easy, that’s why.

I wasn’t willing to work for it, to sacrifice my collegiate experience and everything it has been in order to train for that dream. I wasn’t willing to make the sacrifices I needed to make for that passion.

I always had an excuse. Whether it was money, time or whatever else- I always had a reason to not work for it.

Maybe it’s because I am actually scared of failing, maybe it’s not my ultimate dream, maybe it’s a little bit of both.

It’s not easy to admit that although ballet is something I will always love, something I will always cherish and something that will always be a part of my life, it isn’t my entire life.

It never has been.

It’s not easy to let go of something that has been held on a pedestal by myself and others for so long. It’s not easy to let the possibility of a certain life flee from the reality of your future. It’s actually really hard.

I don’t think I’ll ever be truly happy with myself until I accept where I am headed and fully commit to the path that I have chosen. I will always not be enough, I will always have an unchecked to do. Without accepting my life for what it is, I will continue to set myself up for failure day-in and day-out, because it’s easier to do that than to admit to myself that I have given up.

I still have ballet workouts scheduled into my planner that I never do. I still have the goal of making an audition tape to send to companies, even though I probably won’t. I still do it, and I still fail.

And maybe, it’s because although I’m scared to let it go, so scared in fact that as I sit here typing this my heart actually hurts (I haven’t felt this in awhile, this is not very fun), I’m more scared to admit that it’s not really my dream and it’s not what I’m going to do. I’m scared to admit that I have found different passions and a different life path.

I will always be a ballerina. I will always have a torn identity. I will always wonder. And, in all honesty, I will probably always think “what if.” Simply because I’m not ready, simply because it’s easier to do that than accept it (although I think this piece of writing might be my first step), simply because I really do wonder “what if.”

As I struggled with my “what if,” I think I sub-consciously decided that it was either dance every day, or don’t dance at all- potentially the root of what fueled my disappointment and failed goals.

All or nothing with ballet? Um, no thanks, because at the end of the day, when you realize your life has taken a different turn and that amidst school, work and everything else, you actually can’t give it your all, then you are left with nothing, and you realize that’s not what you wanted at all.

Your biggest regret will follow you around forever, until you decide to change it or move on, although I think I’m choosing both. Choosing to incorporate it into my life- not as I had always imagined maybe, but the picture in your head of the way life should be, could be, is not always the most beautiful possibility.

Ballet will always be a part of my life, and that’s the way it should be. But accepting the future and embracing life for what it is, accepting the decisions I have made, realizing my new passions and moving forward is something that I need to work on, and I will.

Maybe I will audition for different companies and it’ll work out, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll teach dance in my future, maybe I won’t. However ballet will be in my life in some form, always, because without it, I wouldn’t be me ( and my Twitter bio would be much too bland).

An Unfaltering Love

Mom's Nev. Cheer letterman's jacket. Circa 1983.
Mom’s Nev. Cheer letterman’s jacket. Circa 1983.

There are 4,140 universities and colleges in the United States alone.

There are 14,473,884 undergraduate students, 2,097,511 graduate students and 1,267,700 professors.

Amidst different marketing and recruiting efforts, SAT scores, athletics statistics, extracurricular activities and status- it’s easy for school’s to get lost in the minds of potential students.

There are so many factors that play into this decision. There are so many options for this one choice that changes the course of our lives.

Wherever you end up, it is my hope that you make the best of it. There are incredible institutions nationwide offering students the experience of a lifetime, and the experience is in fact what you make it (bla, bla, bla).

I am lucky enough to have chosen a school that truly is the perfect fit.

An institution that makes being a second year senior a privilege, and really, well, fun.

An institution that makes it hard for someone that has an obsession with change to think about actually leaving. An institution with students and faculty that inspire others every day to be their best and to make a difference. An institution rich with genuine school spirit. An institution full of opportunity and hope, of resources and a sense of community. An institution that I could drag this paragraph out for, because there are too many incredible things it has to offer.

An institution with a rich historic foundation, fueled today by the minds and spirits of all involved.

Growing up, I denied that I would ever go to the University of Nevada.

I told my family no, no way, never, I’m not going there (mostly just to annoy them… I must’ve been a fun).

I grew up amidst Nevada alums, and I wasn’t able to forget it (the genuine school spirit mentioned above, yeah it doesn’t go away). My mom is a member of the Wolf Pack. My dad is a member of the Wolf Pack. My uncle, my grandpa and my grandma are all members of the Wolf Pack.

Growing up, I really didn’t care.

It’s hard to look from the outside in and understand. Cool, you went there, that’s nice. Cool, you still have your letterman’s jacket from the cheerleading team, way to go.

However, as I have grown to love this institution and everything it stands for, appreciate it’s history and truly realize everything it has given me, I have started to really care.

My parents still make trips to see their friends from school. My grandma still has her yearbook from the 50’s. My grandpa still has his crested mug from his fraternity. My uncle still buys his kids Wolf Pack gear.

I have an unfaltering love for the University of Nevada. I loved it yesterday, I love it today, I’ll love it tomorrow and I’ll still love it for the rest of my life.

I am grateful to be a member of the Wolf Pack alongside different members of my family. I am proud to share that bond. I am fortunate to be here, and I don’t forget that.

Choosing this institution and place to call home (I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I ❤ Reno), was the best decision I’ve ever made. Somehow when I visited the campus for the first time, I just knew it was where I belonged. I wasn’t excited to start school however, there were actually some attempts at leaving within the first week or so of my experience (thank goodness mom and dad didn’t let that one go). But life has mysterious ways of working itself out, and it did. Nevada is my place, and I will support it until the end.

Now, it’s not Nevada or nothing, that’s not how life works. There are thousands of incredible schools and programs out there. Finding what is the right one for you, or making wherever you end up the right one for you, is vital.

My hope for all individuals looking for a school or trying to find their way in their current one, is that they experience everything they can. That they realize the opportunities. That they have a sense of pride in their institution. That they make mistakes, get involved and grow into their true selves. That they find and choose the place that is right for them.

For me, it was and always will be the University of Nevada. For another, it might be Colorado State. For another yet, it might not be school at all. Whatever it is, just find it, choose it. Grow, change, experience, take chances and at the end of the day choose to love your situation, whatever that may be.

But, I mean… Go Pack.



*The numbers used above may be off, I really didn’t try that hard to check my facts (Google is easy). But the numbers are close enough, you get the idea.







Just a Hug

Just a hug.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Anyone that follows me on any social media platforms or has caught a glimpse of me speed walking with a purpose around town as of late (generally looking like a lost soul torn between wanting to be a corporate professional and wanting to drop everything to backpack through Europe i.e. heels, blazer and an overly stuffed North Face backpack) knows that the past few months have been a whirlwind of excitement and improvement for me.

It has also, however, been testing. I love what I do and every responsibility I have in my life. I love waking up early. I love my to-do lists. I love being the first one to work in the morning. I love working hard on a project and receiving recognition (who doesn’t). I love writing, reading, learning and working with others. I love setting myself up for a bright future, I love it all.

But I also love the people in my life.

Transitions are hard.

Transitioning from one lifestyle and into a new one is anything but easy (now introducing… ruts). It’s not easy to break habits, to change your way of thinking.

It hasn’t been easy to transition whilst remaining in the same setting. It’s been hard to explain to friends and family different reasonings for my choices. It’s been hard to articulate my love for my work and obligations.

It hasn’t been easy to explain that I don’t need to participate in the same activities I once did (mostly- going out multiple times in one week), in order to be the same person I always have been.

Along the way I have lost touch with some friends. I haven’t been around, haven’t called, haven’t been able to do certain things because of my schedule and my goals.

It’s been hard to create a mutual understanding amidst the transition, and so, it’s been easier not to try.

It was easy to stop calling. It was easy to accept that others didn’t get it. It was easy to think the worst and move on. That part was easy. What was hard, was seeing my friend pool slowly evaporate right in front of me.

But that’s the thing, it wasn’t evaporating at all.

This weekend, I knew I had to go out for a friend’s birthday.

I was semi-dreading it the entire week prior.

I didn’t have the time. I didn’t have the energy to stay up that late. I didn’t want to be bombarded with comments about my being out for once, my excessive social media use, or my need to have a good time (really, I’m fine). I just didn’t really want to go.

Sometimes, a hug is all it takes.

Just a hug.

I went out, as I knew I would, and as the night went along I saw faces of people I hadn’t seen in too long. People I was once inseparable with. People that I had grown apart from in the past few months.

I made up my mind that I was going to have a good time.

I fell back into the mold of my friend group and the person I had always been around them flawlessly- something I hadn’t been able to do for awhile. I laughed, I let go of my insecurities and to-do list (only because it was fully checked off) and hugged the people I cared about.

It was, for a lack of better vocabulary, awesome. I had missed my friends.

Amidst my transition, I had taken the easy way out. I had accepted that people just didn’t get it.

In twenty years, you probably won’t have all of the same friends you have today, and that’s not bad a thing. It isn’t a bad thing to grow out of friendships and to develop new ones.

However there are certain people in your life that will always be there. They’re the ones that probably make fun of you the most. They’re the ones that might not always get it, but that’s okay because they’re there to try. They’re the ones that show up when it counts.

They’re the ones that deserved more credit than I gave them.

They’re the ones that give you just one hug, and remind you of who you are and who’ve you’ve always been. The ones that help you remember why you’re here-to love, be loved and to have a hell of a good time (even if that means waking up at 6 a.m. every morning to drink coffee and read the news- personal preference).



Remembering You

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the quickly approaching graduation date, or maybe it’s the “grown up” things I’ve been doing lately (i.e. not over-drafting my bank account). Whatever the cause, nostalgia has been the farthest thing from a stranger the past few days.

The classic nostalgia symptoms have set in. I have looked at old photos, reached out to old friends, “creeped” on old acquaintances’ social mediums (although those are pretty ambiguous, apparently not everyone posts as much as me… surprising I know).

I have thought about who I used to be, who I have been and who I have become. I’ve remembered the simple times, and I’ve remembered the more complicated. I’ve looked at different decisions I have made and where they have led me.

I’ve also thought a lot about who I want to become.

It’s sometimes surreal looking back on certain memories- it’s almost difficult to put yourself back into your own shoes.

It’s also easy to look back and wish that you were still wearing them.

I’m an advocate for personal growth and change. I fully believe in bettering yourself and making changes to lead a happier life.

However, sometimes it’s not about changing into someone new, but remembering who you were, who you are and who you’ve always been.

Getting a little off track in life isn’t a bad thing. Branching out, trying new things and taking chances helps you figure out the type of person you want to be. Not being the person you want to be at all times in your life teaches you about who you’d like to be in the future. And you’ll always remember who you really are.

No, I am not the same person I was six years ago. No, my ambitions are not the same as they were when I was 12. No, I am not the self-conscious girl I was two years ago.

But parts of you will always remain in tact. Whether it’s your values, your standards, your favorite color or your weird laugh, you will always be you, and you will always see glimpses of who you have always been.

That being said, what you take with you and what you leave behind is entirely up to you.

As I started looking back, I missed the girl I used to be. The girl that was so driven. The girl that wanted to be a professional ballet dancer and would do anything it took to get there. The girl that valued family, friends and personal standards so greatly. I missed her. But I don’t anymore.

She’s always been there and I see her in the person I am becoming, the person I was always meant to be.

That person by the way, is far from perfect.

I will always be the girl that dreams big and worries even bigger, and I’m okay with that.

Sleep is a Necessity, Not an Excuse

How many times over the past few years I’ve thought to myself, “I’m just really tired, I physically have to skip class” or “I’m exhausted, the gym is not an option” is, to be blunt, pathetic.

Lately I have been in attendance at basically every obligation I have, regardless of if I feel like going or not. I don’t even think about it, I just go (being overly ambitious has it’s perks).

After months of an on-the-go lifestyle, I woke up at 5 a.m. a few days ago overwhelmed with exhaustion. I hadn’t been that organically tired (no help from outside substances from the night before) since high school.

This epiphany caused me to think about why that was (and then write a blog post containing my personal conclusions that I would then share on Facebook to spam my friend’s newsfeeds, naturally).

Sleep isn’t really that important.

Before I came to college, I had attendance taken in every class. I was lucky enough to have parents that woke me up when I hit snooze twenty times too many. I had dance teachers that questioned my presence if I didn’t show up for class. I had clubs to attend with my friends.

Ultimately, I had people to answer to.

Even on the mornings when I felt too tired to get out of bed, I did. Even on the days (a lot) I wanted to skip a class, I (generally) didn’t. Even on the evenings I had piles of homework to do but I had dance, I went. Even the many times I was overwhelmingly exhausted, I did what I had to do.

Fast forward to freshman year of college, I’m 1000 miles away from home, on my own with breaks in my class schedule (that often didn’t include attendance), meals whenever I wanted and no curfew. As you can imagine, in the battle of nap vs. obligation- nap won, most of the time.

There are a million things I could get into about this vital, incredible transition in our lives. You learn, you change, you make mistakes and you grow. I’m happy with everything I did, every lesson I learned and every mistake I made. Without everything I have gone through the past four years at school I wouldn’t be where I am today (I won’t get into that now- I would write much more than you would want to read).

Something I hadn’t grasped from this experience until recently, though, was how to not let my need for sleep control my life.

Sleep really is important.

I know that I need 6-7 hours of sleep to function at a high performance level- be that at work, school, a social setting, physical activity- whatever. Some people need 8-9, some 9-10 (although hit 11 and I’m calling your bluff) and some are perfectly fine with less than 6 (the lucky ones, as I like to call them).

Regardless, sleep is important to us for many reasons. However with no supervision, being too tired to workout or too tired to finish reading for class had become an excuse used too much, at least by me.

We all need sleep. We all need different amounts of sleep and that’s okay. But getting a healthy amount of sleep and using sleep as an excuse to give in to the craziness that is life are two different things that we mix up all too often.

Get up, dress up and show up. Sleep is a necessity, but it is not an excuse.


P.S. I’m going to bed now instead of studying for my test, because I’m tired… no one is perfect.


Someone Looks Up To You

We all have role models.

We all have people that we look up to, people we want to be like and people we aspire to emulate in our every day lives.

I am fortunate to have many role models that I look to for guidance and motivation in my life.

It’s a good thing, to be inspired by others. It’s a good thing to see the amazing things others are doing and to want to live up to something similar- it’s a good thing.

It’s not a good thing, however, to forget that although you have role models, you are also one yourself.

Someone looks up to you.

There is someone out there that looks up to you. Whether they see your Instagrams, they’re your best friend or they’ve had one conversation with you, they look up to you.

We don’t always tell our role models that we look up to them. Sometimes it’s because we are intimidated, sometimes it’s because we don’t want to seem creepy (personal problem?) and sometimes we just think they must hear it enough.

It’s important for us to apply this information to ourselves. If we don’t always tell our role models how we feel about them, think about how many people aren’t telling you.

Whenever you’re having an off day- you messed up an interview, you overreacted in a situation- whenever you’re feeling down on yourself and wishing you were more like another, remember that someone is looking to you as an example of who they want to be. Remember that you are you, and that’s perfectly alright. Remember that someone looks up to you and you’ll find your drive and your self-worth, even if it’s hidden under your spilled coffee or failed exam.

Screen Shot 2015-08-28 at 10.37.09 PM

Laugh Until You Cry

Yesterday I laughed so hard that I cried, something I used to do almost daily. As the tears started forming in my eyes and eventually streaming down my face, I felt a sense of nostalgia come over me.

I like to think of myself as a laid back person.

I enjoy laughing, smiling and trying to brush things off as best I can. Laughing so hard that my stomach hurts and tears are coming out of my eyes used to be a regular event.

Except that I had forgotten.

I had forgotten what it felt like to laugh that hard with friends. I had forgotten what it felt like to be so present in a moment that tears run down your face because of something that ridiculous. I had forgotten what it felt like to feel something so great.

I couldn’t believe it.

After, I felt more alone than anything (listening to country music on the way home probably just elevated the issue, but I was being dramatic so oh well). Where were the people that I used to have so much fun with? Together, that’s where they are.

Maybe that’s when you realize you’re a little too busy. Maybe that’s when you see that you are starting to miss out on priceless parts of life.

Maybe that’s all true, and maybe I need to figure out why.

When’s the last time you laughed until you cried? Cried until you laughed? When’s the last time you had so much fun you wanted to relive it over and over? If it’s been a while, figure out why. Don’t waste too much time caught up in your self-inflicted to-do list.

Balance, enough said.


Accept the Inevitable

Some people think I’m rather emotionless. This is most likely due to the fact that I have an average crying rate of 1 tear-up or solid cry per year (four since I moved to Reno in 2010- close enough), I’m decently laid back and I generally don’t argue or fight with anyone.

Lately though I have been getting worked up every now and again. Generally, after the initial reaction declines, I end up disappointed in myself for feeling that way, wanting to be better and to be able to see the bigger picture in all moments. I am disappointed simply in my own emotions and feelings.

It’s important to remember that with the incredible and surreal feelings of true happiness and excitement about life, comes at times, more difficult emotions.

And that’s okay.

Emotions are weird.

We get sad, we get mad, we get happy, we get excited and we get aggravated.

Sometimes we can control our emotions and sometimes we can’t.

Sometimes we know that we shouldn’t feel a certain way, whether it’s jealous, irritated or anything else, but we still do.

It’s frustrating not being able to control something that can sometimes so greatly control you. How many times I’ve said, “I know I shouldn’t feel like this, but yeah” is well, a lot.

But that’s okay.

It’s okay that sometimes experiences in your life have you so worked up and passionate, that you feel irritated. It’s okay that when someone you love does something you don’t agree with, you get upset.

This is what makes us human and reminds us that we are alive and have true connections.

Emotions, no matter good or bad, should remind us of how lucky we are to have experiences that bring out the emotion. If we didn’t feel anything at all, we wouldn’t care about anything at all, we wouldn’t be passionate about anything at all.

Act, don’t react. Be rational and logical but accept that emotions are okay and that they will come. Handle them and act on them in a calm and positive way, sure, but don’t ignore them or look down on yourself for having them (okay fine, I’ll try).

Emotions are inevitable, and they should be, so accept them. They shouldn’t consume you, but they should be noticed, dealt with and given the thought they deserve.

There’s a reason you feel a certain way, what is it? That answer can help you get to the root of internal issues as well as help you to figure out what you truly want in life.

What gets your passion going? What makes you feel something? What do you care about?

Because isn’t that what it’s all about?


Why I Want To Be Single For Life

I want to be single for life.

I want to be able to do what I want, when I want. I want to feel no obligation toward anyone. I want to do exactly what pleases me. I want to be independent. I want to make it on my own. I want to be mine and mine alone.

And I will.

I am currently a 22 year old woman that enjoys blogging, has an obsession with coffee and interior design, and watches rom coms over and over again until the words come as second nature.

Obviously, I don’t actually want to be single for life, as far as the traditional definition goes.

I have a lot of goals. I want to do a lot, I want to accomplish a lot and I want to be a lot.

My aspirations are my own. It is my responsibility to get up every day to work toward my goals and it is my responsibility to evaluate my progress and learn from my mistakes as I try to reach them. I really have no room in my “life plan” for anyone to hold me back.

And they won’t.

I refuse to settle. (See Sh*t Single Girls Say– “I’m just too picky”).

I want someone that will accept that I am independent, encourage me to be my own person and drive me to attain my dreams.

I want someone that will make me want to make them breakfast. I want someone that will make me want to go to a Giants game even though I hate the Giants. I want someone that will make me want to feel obliged to tell them where I am going, because I know they care, and I care right back.

I want someone that respects my aspirations and encourages me to attain them. I want someone that nudges me at 5 a.m. when my alarm goes off because they know I want to go to the gym. I want someone that will support my decision to uproot for a crazy job offer because they know it’s what is best for me.

I want someone that believes in me.

Will I always want to do certain things? No. Do I want someone that will convince me to call in sick once or twice to escape with them for the day? Of course. I’m not looking for a life coach after all, but balance is key.

I want to be single for life. I never want to lose myself in trying to please or live in conjunction with another. I want someone that allows me to be myself. We will share things, sure. We will change and make sacrifices, sure. But I will always be myself and they will always be themselves, because we won’t want it any other way.