Well, I told Ryan. He took it surprisingly well…too well, even. We haven’t spoken since…I don’t expect to, honestly. I’m not sure if he’s mad at me or if he’s just got a lot going on…but either way, I’m not going to push it. I can’t apologize for something I’m not sorry for, nor should I be sorry for. I mean, it’s not as if I told him he couldn’t move down there. It is, after all, a free world. He’s free to move and to go wherever he pleases. Honestly, I don’t think he wanted to go…or his response when I told him about the change of housing plans wouldn’t have been to say …well, I’ll just come back for awhile and save up before I go back to Dallas. I was right. Texas is his default. I don’t think that’s changing any time soon, and I’m glad I realized that now, instead of a month into this move and realizing it then.
Is it a horrible thing to say that I’m relieved? I am, in a way. I’m glad it’s out there and I told him because honestly, not telling him was driving me crazy the longer it went on. And because, well…I really do think this is for the best. For him. For me. For everyone. I think he needs time to figure his life out. I can’t do that for him…heck, I barely have mine figured out. I’m the LAST person he needs right now–someone else who isn’t completely sure of where she’s going or what she wants out of life. I have plans. I’m going to Nashville. The rest, as they say, is up to fate. That’s where I’m leaving it. I’m just going to live and be happy and have fun. I’m starting over…reinventing myself, so to speak. Not that I need reinventing–I’m happy with the person I am right now…the person I’ve become. I’ve done a lot– A LOT– of soul searching over the past 5 years. I’ve let go of a lot of the negative I used to hold on to. I’ve grown-up.
I’m ready for this. I know a lot of people don’t think that I am–and maybe they’re right, and I’ll fail–but then again, maybe they’re wrong, for once. Maybe this will be saving grace. My story to write. There’s times when I feel like I’m still this confused 21 year old in some 27 year old’s body. I don’t feel 27. I look around me and everyone my age seems to be getting married and starting families–some people I went to school with, their own kids are in school already. That–to me–is just plain crazy. I’m nowhere near close to being ready for ALL THAT. There’s still so much that I want to do–call me selfish–but I’m just not ready. And I still don’t get what the big deal with marriage is. I mean, to tie yourself down to one person for the rest of your life–that’s another crazy idea for me. Maybe because I’ve never been with anyone that I’ve ever come even remotely close to wanting that kind of future with. I don’t know. But I like the feeling of being independent. Its female empowerment at its finest. This is my time. To shine or to fail–either way, it’s MY time. This is something I’ve been wanting to do — something I need to do. I’m ready.