I'm sitting in the coffee shop, watching it rain. I'm strangely happy. I just had a long conversation with the barista about the awesomeness of chai ( and yes, the word awesomeness was used). And I think, maybe, that I'm finally back to my old self. I think all the goodbyes, tears, stress and anxiety of the last month took it's toll on me. I haven't been eating, sleeping, and having fits of horrible stomach aches. But now, for whatever reason, I am back to feeling like Kelly.
I have always considered myself to be a spiritual person. I think letting yourself believe in the unknown, that there's some sort of force in the world you can't control is both amazing and terrifying. I have always believed in karma, and was reminded why recently. It wasn't anything big, and probably means nothing in the grand scheme of things, but just knowing that the energy and good vibes you put into the world will somehow make it back to you has been incredibly comforting to me.
If I have learned one thing from moving out here by myself, it's that good things are worth fighting for. Nothing is meant to come easy, and if it does, it isn't what it seems. There are good things and there are bad things, but how it changes you is all a matter of how you look at it. Maybe it's unrealistic, maybe it's bullshit, but maybe it's what gets me up on the mornings I'm still reeling from a memory, or feeling particularly down. It's what made me move 1200 miles away. The concept that I choose to believe in- that when you muster up the courage to close your eyes and jump- someone will be there to catch you- even if it's not who you thought it would be.
Everything happens for a reason, but how many people can say they waited around long enough to see what that reason is?
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