All By Myself

Sometimes I get that not-so-fresh feeling.

Lately, I wonder, am I the giver or the receiver?

It's not too hard to surmise. I've always been a big fan of giving. And I guess this qualifies as something I'm pretty damn okay with sharing. No, it's not the usual wrapped up shiny with a bow, but isn't that just sometimes a little much?

It's a combination of things. Frustrations. Expectations. Rinse and repeat. I'm so unbelievably happy right now. The expectations of what a 22-year old female needs to be happy are not in my orbit, at all. I've got a decent job, making enough money not to keep me up at night. I've got an apartment that I love. I've finally made it through the angst and drama of my high school and college years. I love my family and spending time with them. I've got great friends.

There's always room for improvement. Little miss independant is happy being just that. The whole boyfriend, Mr. Right hunt is way overrated. And not really worth my time. Am I worried about becoming the old lady with cats? Nope. (I like cats.) Am I looking for a man to complete me. Hell no. (I am already complete.)

But my independence goes beyond a plan with a man. I do what I want when I want. For me. I'm more of a jeans and t-shirt kind of gal, I love coffee and pink nailpolish. I'd rather be up early in the morning than late at night. I like the comforts of a small town simple life. I love my routine.

And I don't feel bad about that. That's where the not-so-fresh feeling comes in. I've been dishing it out in large doses lately. Because I don't take too well to having the things that make me happy interrupted with what others think should make me happy. Contrary to some opionions, I'm am fully capable of taking care of myself, doing exactly what makes me happy.