Life is hard sometimes, guys. I have reached the part of my first year of moving that is HARD. I miss my Vancouver friends, I’m still in Toronto social limbo (meaning I have friends, but not yet CLOSE FRIENDS), I still have no more furniture than a couch and a bed, winter is lingering, my job doesn’t pay enough, and I’m wondering if I’ve made a huge mistake. Have I made a huge mistake?
I had a dream last night that I went home for the summer and no one had any time to see me, so I spent most of my three weeks in Vancouver hanging out alone in parks. The zombie nightmares have also returned. Along with the panic attacks. I find myself resisting the urge to go out and buy a pack of cigarettes every single day. Uggggggggggh.
I’m lonely. But not. Isn’t that always the case? But seriously, this is the first time in my entire life that I feel like I am missing my family. Not my biological one. But my friend one. My heart hurts so. There are exciting things happening, and I’m meeting new people all the time, but do I really care? At the end of the day, don’t I just want to cook and share a wonderful meal with people who I love?
I just don’t know.