Hunger.

For quite a while I have been trying to define this deep-seated feeling. This feeling as though something is missing.

I couldn’t quite place my finger it. Yet it continued to gnaw at my insides.

Until one day the autumnal trees spoke to me. What you are feeling is hunger, they said.

Hunger for adventure, for experience, for connection, far off places, and unfamiliar scenery.

Hunger for change and fulfillment, enlightenment, less worrying and more playing.

I long for more in my life. And I can’t do it confined to this suburban town.

For as far back as I can remember I never wanted that feeling of being tied down. Didn’t want to own a home or have a child. I craved freedom.

Tasting a lack of structure after years of rigid scheduling, I felt my creative flag flying high. I felt unstoppable, capable, and full of possibility.

Then I began making a series of decisions based on what I thought I needed yet knew I didn’t want. Slowly I began unraveling. I came apart. I turned black, crumbled back into the darkest corners, and gave up.

Now I feel weighed down by complacency, normalcy, doing what I think I ought to be doing at this stage of my life. And I feel worse for it.

I have had to break down my walls again. Every day I make a conscious effort to keep shining that light inside of me, making sure that girl who wants to face life with a child’s inquiring eyes does not fade away.

There is hope, and I have hope. Determined to loosen the rope and set myself free.

There is fear to let go of, expectations to gracefully bow away from, and confidence to build. And these things take time.

These feelings remind me of the quote “In order to discover new lands, one must be willing to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.”

Never before have I felt so ready to leap, without a net, into the unknown.

Fear of failure no longer resides here but has been replaced by fear of never having tried.

I am ready to let go and live. I am ready to be full on life.

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