If someone walked up to me and asked, "Where would you like to wake up? The answer is limitless," I hope that I can one day give a simple answer.
"Where I am. Tomorrow morning, in my own bed. I'm happy where I am right now."
I wonder if I will ever reach that point of my life. Will I ever be satisfied? Will I ever be fulfilled? Will I ever not carry regrets in the crevices of my emotionally driven mind?
Today is the anniversary of my life in Brooklyn. Exactly one year ago, I moved to New York City with the help of my mother and my ex. Now, I love this city, and I love living in an outer borough, but I wonder what would have happened had I made a different choice. What if I had traveled Europe for four months instead of moving here? What if I hadn't allowed love to influence my decision? What if, what if, what if...
I want to live a life of no regrets and no "what ifs"; unfortunately, I have too many.
But on the other hand, I am not dissatisfied. I'm glad I'm living on my own, away from the dismal city known as "The Cleve" by 30 ROCK fans. I have a good job, until September, and I have a great apartment, with no counter space and an unruly toilet.
I'm not sure what brought on this sudden lack of fulfillment. I suppose I just want my life to be meaningful. I want to be meaningful.
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