I'm stumbling over a typical blogger problem.
I want to take my writing to the next level, and that means I have to open the hell up and quit writing exclusively about how much I hate everything. But I've been burned so many times for things I've written online (hey, dad!) that it's hard for me to even know where to begin. There's so much to tell. I should be honest and say here that in my life, I'm an extremely private person. I don't like to talk about my, like, "feelings". I feel compelled to put the word "feelings" in quotation marks. I'm not being mean; I'm just a prude. Why did I have to choose blogging?!
But that preface is to help explain why I forsee an extremely awkward few paragraphs in your immediate future...if you continue reading. I'm cognizant of my inner workings in high definition - I'm nothing if not self-aware - but I'm not good at stringing the phrases together when the subject matter means so much to me. So, I'm sorry. But I'm trying.
I would write about the last year of my life; the one where I left home and the support of my family for a life with a guy that *deep breath* I met through my last blog. There. I said it. Most of my opinions about what I've done since then are contradictory, but they're all controversial. I think it's the best growing experience I've ever managed to engineer for myself. I think it's a huge step back, in that I haven't been attending college. I think it's the life I want to live forever; poor and in love. I think that I couldn't possibly last another day in another dirty studio apartment in another city where I have no friends of my own. I think it's too hard; I think it's so easy.
The thing is that my relationship with Kyle, in a vacuum, is great...is perfect. I feel sorry for people who haven't dated him (or rather, someone spookishly like him). He treats me like a queen. He thinks it's cute when I'm domineering. He strokes my cheek with his finger when I'm about to fall asleep. Let's be honest...it's a great situation for me. When you take the relationship out of its theoretical vacuum, though, and put it in the context of our real-life life, I get scared. There are so many instances of people getting torn apart by money. I was raised to have whatever I wanted except my freedom. And now I have it...I want everything else. I want shoes, dresses, shiny pretty things.
I can do whatever I want if it costs a few bucks, but all I want to buy is the next new thing that costs four thousand dollars. I have expensive taste.
So, I'm struggling. I can go back and be rich but utterly alone; I can move forward and be poor forever, but with the man I love. Most people never have this stereotypical dilemma all laid out in front of them like this. I guess I'm one of the lucky few...
For Love or For Money?