I haven’t been writing much this year. I’ve spent a good portion of the year not feeling quite like myself, finding myself in a relationship (twice) that had nothing good to offer me and I was fully aware of that, but I went through the motions anyway, because it made people stop fucking asking me if I was seeing someone. I walked deeper into the belly of the beast that I knew a year ago I didn’t really want to be a part of anymore. But they offered me more money, and I took it.

Might as well be able to make my car payment while I figure it all out.

And I haven’t wanted to write about it. It’s been easy to write about the excitement. The excitement about something new. I was excited about going to NYC, that wasn’t a lie. But I’m reading Everything that Remains by the Minimalists and they make a point in one of the chapters that excitement and passion aren’t the same thing. You can be excited about something and not be passionate about it. I haven’t wanted to write about how I actually hate my job and hate that my day revolves around people buying stuff. People buying stuff they don’t need. Stuff that serves no actual purpose in their life other than it’s expensive and has a fancy name on it and they want it. No, I haven’t wanted to write about it because then if someone I work with actually read my blog, then they’d know I was a fraud. They’d know that I lie in bed in the morning calculating how long I could live off my savings account and credit cards if I decided not to go back to that place ever again.

As the year wraps up and comes to an end, I am finally done with being a fraud. I am done dating people I feel absolutely no connection to. I am trying to find another job, hopefully one that takes me back to my college town with a much lower cost of living and my two best friends.

2017 was such a good year for me, because I listened to my gut. And no, I’m not just wording it that way because I’ve been marathoning Scandal lately. I trusted myself. I felt like I needed to leave Columbia. I felt like I needed to see a little more of my home state. I don’t regret coming to St. Louis, at all. I almost ran back to Columbia last winter, when I first started to think about quitting my job. But I didn’t. I convinced myself that people to drink with were the same thing as close friends, and that it would get better. It did, for a bit. And then it got bad again. Better, worse.

I don’t want to work in luxury retail. I don’t want to live in St. Louis anymore. I don’t want to keep dating people that I have nothing in common with that I was talked into being with.

I want to give back. I want to help people. I want to make a positive difference in other people’s lives. I want to find someone that actually makes me feel something.

I have a gut feeling about all of this. So I’m trusting it. Because every time I’ve trusted myself, things have worked out.

Oh, and I’m also going to write a lot more. So stay tuned.