Tuesday, May 25, 2010


Life is an interesting hue these days.

I can't say exactly what I expected, only that this is not it.

Some things, like the internship, have worked out brilliantly. I fretted for an entire year about securing an internship. Sweated, nearly had anxiety attacks and doubted myself each time one of my fellow students came back with their exciting news.

Just in the nick of time, though, I came back with my own exciting news; securing a full-time internship at an advertising and PR agency and another at a social media and marketing company. I accepted the agency internship and I just hoped that I'd enjoy my summer. And that I'd be busy. And that it would all be enough.

Thankfully, I absolutely love the internship. And I'm busier than I could have imagined; exhausted by each day's end.

But it's not enough. There are things—people—missing.

This is what I've always feared. In that irrational way that only makes sense because I feel it. It is the kind of fear that only slips out in my writing. The kind that people, who don't know me the way they think they do, question.

Those people don't know the stories that feed the fear. That just tonight, I nearly begged a friend to hang out with me this weekend (and after typing that I'm confident that won't be happening again, weekends on my own aren't THAT bad).

This wouldn't be honest writing if I didn't acknowledge the resentment I've felt the last few months. I've never had many friends, but when I have them, I am a friend.

As it turns out, I define that differently than a great many of the people I've met. There are some, a precious few, that understand that word in the same way that I do. It has never failed, though, that life pulls us a measurable and tangible distance apart.

Maybe that's the way it's meant to be.

Or maybe this is the voice of fear, not as removed from me as I expected.


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