Between the Lines

​ It was 2016, towards the end of my freshman year of high school. I was at school early before classes started. I had an honors English class first period, and that day I had to do a speaking analysis in front of my class about  The Great Gatsby  for a final. I was sat in a rarely trafficked hallway with a new friend of mine, though we barely knew each other at the time. I was going through my annotations, discussing the book with him to prepare. He was a couple grades ahead of me and already knew the book. Nearly ten years later, this memory has stuck with me so vividly I can still feel the cold tile underneath me while we sat on the floor. I think it was one of the first times in my life someone had discussed something intellectually intimate with me. I remember feeling ill-prepared, rummaging through my book and the notebook paper I’d written notes on. He assured me that I would do fine. I kept rehearsing my speech, careful not to close my thesis too early, as it was timed...

I moved to Nashville at 22 with nothing but clothes, records, a few movies, two lamps, and a car. I was on a complete high of getting away from everything I’d ever known. I went to cosmetology school, but I didn’t get that fresh new start college gives you. I viewed moving 450 miles from home as that in my journey.   Now I’m 25, and I’m redirecting sight on my long term vision. I’ve already achieved higher education, a big move, and a long-term relationship. On top of that, I’m already five years into my career. I really don’t know what else to “accomplish,” and the long-term has became blurry.  I feel like I’ve gotten so used to the life routine my partner and I have created that I have lost touch of my own wants and desires for myself. I was raised to be practical, and a big lesson for me has been allowing myself to dream. That turned into a need to prove everyone wrong; that dreams can happen.  He keeps me grounded; and while yes I need that, I need whimsy in my life ...