Suitcases 3

Social media is one of the greatest and deadliest inventions of our generation. You have the ability to keep in contact with everyone constantly. But that ends up being a double-edged sword. You get to see the people you love through technology virtually anytime you want, but you also get to see people you haven’t talked to in 5 or 10 years too.

Every once in a while I’ll land on someone’s Facebook, Twitter or Instagram page from high school. This someone is generally someone I haven’t seen or spoken to in almost five years. I will slowly being to sift through, digest and piece together what their life has been like since graduation. It’s kind of like a fun, yet exhausting puzzle. I’ll find myself saying things like “oh my god she’s dating him now?” or “they’re still doing that?” or “they’re friends now?” You know, they typical things that you never expected to happen actually did end up happening.

Then there are the few that you just sit back and can’t help but laugh at a little. I don’t mean to sound like a wretched person, but as I’ve said many times about this blog, this is my space to express myself and be honest. So I’m going to be honest. When I see some people haven’t left home or haven’t done really anything productive with themselves in the past five years my first reaction is to just laugh to myself while sitting on the floor of my apartment in Los Angeles. I put my computer down, lay on the floor and just laugh.

Then I stand up, look around and tell myself how damn proud of myself I am. How proud of myself I am for leaving home which now seems like a never ending black hole for some of these people. A black hole that they might never get out of. But if that makes them happy, then I am happy for them. But how do you really know if that truly makes you happy unless you go out and experience something other than that black hole? Not that I’m saying home a black hold in the sense that it is a horrible place, but in the sense that no one ever really leaves (at least when they’re young) and as a result, never really grow up.

Then there’s me. The girl who was dying to get out as fast as she could when she turned 18. The girl who at 20 decided she wanted to leave Orange County and move to Los Angeles even if that meant commuting to school for the next year. The girl who is now 22 and paying for everything in her life completely on her own. (Insert Beyonce voice singing the clothes I’m wearing, I bought it here.) I would like to take this small Internet space to say that I’m really proud of me. For everything I’ve done and been able to do in the past four years. Because when you think of it like that, it’s quite a few small and large things that happened that changed my life drastically in such a short amount of time. Also, I’m very thankful to my family for allowing me to leave and pay for my schooling. That’s pretty rad too. (Hi Mom and Dad.)

I guess the best word to describe that feeling of first instant laughter and then overwhelming pride is perspective. Perspective that I chose a different life path than they chose. Perspective that this fire in me that I used to think was scary, actually turned out to be the thing that propelled me to the space where I am now; Los Angeles, completely on my own (poor yet happy) and starting to create my own life. Perspective that right now, my options are pretty much wide open and endless because I made them that way. I did it. I control my own life. Everything is my decision, doing things how I want to do them.


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