Far and Distant Shore:

After a day and a half away from work, I feel alright.  I was still so nauseous yesterday.  I should get some groceries and laundry cleaned.  I should get new shoes and prepare for tonight’s shift.
I worked 120 hours last pay period.  One hundred and twenty hours.  Add seven to that and you may as well have James Franco in a canyon with a hand held camera…..wait….
I’ve been missing home.  Waking up in my parents’ basement on a Saturday morning in the quiet.  Or that bubbling anticipation of driving to Fort Collins to see D.  Spending the weekends with Ryan and D walking around Old Town. Spending a Thursday evening eating pie with K until we pop.  It all seems so far away.
Now, I live with Ryan.  And for the most part, it’s great.  We have our own tv show that we watch together, we laugh about how Tucker always wants to be on the couch with us.  We eat dinner at our table and I listen to him snore for no less than 20 minutes and no more than 1 hour before I fall asleep next to him.
And then he leaves for work and then I do.  And we both work our asses off and stress out and come home hoping the other understands we’re fragile.
If anyone you know ever tells you they’re in a relationship with someone and it’s just perfect, they never fight….They’re lying.  They’re lying so hard in hopes to believe the story themselves or they truly don’t see the faults in the relationship and a giant tumor is growing on their brain.  Because there is NO SUCH THING as a perfect relationship.  Because THERE IS NO SUCH THING as perfect people.  It just doesn’t exist.  It’s up to you to decide if communicating and compromising with one person is worth it.  That’s all it is.
I worked so hard to get here.  To have a job and live with Ryan.  And now the magic is gone.  The sparkle has faded.  But it’s comfort.  Knowing when I come home with a violent migraine, he’s there and he won’t leave my side until he knows I’ll be okay.  Even if his day at work is shit and it overwhelms him..I’m there, with marinated chicken and a hug.  It’s not a fairy tale.  It’s not glorious, believe me, but we’re doing okay.  And I’m thankful.  I miss home.  But it’s not this home.  The house I grew up in will always be like a lighthouse, and my friends are always a text or phone call away.  And even they are hanging in there.  Adulthood is just a strange place.  I’ve landed on some far and distant shore.  And I barely know the native tongue….

I'm 26. Lost and in transition. I don't have the answers, just thoughts.