It has now occurred to me when my boyfriend asked questions about the simplest of preferences like music and art that years of hiding myself has created a sort of robotic and often unsatisfied self image. I used to contemplate my own spirituality and interests with such ease. I surmise that is actually healthier than what I've become since I last wrote from the ❤.
I was single in those days, and instead of figuring out how to please someone else I used to learn how to please myself. Just in the past two days I have thought of escaping to the Oceanside living so notorious for romantic interludes with oneself.
Meaning find a cheap room somewhere and just enjoy my solitude by allowing the universe to unfold before me rather than trying to force some kind of change. But is that fair to the two people who love me most? Is it possible to find that kind of peace and abandonment in this city or do you need to be someplace that speaks to the soul?
The big question is where have I escaped to? What happened to the real me in all her likes, dislikes, quirks and carefree intellectual wanderings. Why the increasing dissatisfaction and sense of urgency to find an answer. I can only hope that I can slow down and be happy right where I am at. Isn't that the ultimate goal?
