Why I’m Here

For many reasons, the photography post I promised on Saturday will not make its way here until this upcoming weekend. Oops.

That’s what I get for waking up in Vegas making promises.

Right now, though, I’d like to talk about why I’m even here. I mean, that seems like a pretty important thing to figure out, but nonetheless, I’ve yet to do so. Hmmm… My priorities are most definitely not always straight.

So, why I’m here. Well, I guess the first thing to establish would be exactly what “here” even is. Ledandev? WordPress? On a blog? On the internet? On this tablet? At this table? In this library? At this college? In college in general? In this city? In this county? In this country? On this earth?


To be completely honest, I don’t actually know.

So “here,” I guess, is simply shaping up to be all of the above yet none of the above at all. “Why am I here?” is also, “Why am I not there?” as well as a mix of, “Why am I who I am? Why am I doing what I’m doing? Why do I want what I do? What do I want it for? Why am I even trying? Who really am I??


Existential crisis much?

Maybe. But also maybe not. You see, I know who I am and where I am (as well as why I am and why I’m here), but what I don’t know is if that will change. And what I also don’t know is if change is a good thing.

I mean, right now, I am Leah. I have brown hair and brown eyes and an insane amount of freckles. I’m kind of friggin tall for a girl, but that’s the only thing that stands out about me. I blend in seamlessly everywhere I go, and I am totally okay with that. I love it, actually. I hate getting attention I don’t need to have, and I thrive off of quiet time, off of writing. Speaking of which, writing is my life, my all, my everything. It feeds me, quenches my thirst, fills my veins.

*And you know I’m for real when the drop dead gorgeous man who was sitting in front of me as I began writing this (who I couldn’t help but stare at before) left the premises without me even noticing until now when I finally took a break from editing this.*

Side note over.

Every moment of my life thus far, both waking and not, I’ve been writing; it is me, and I am it. We are one, and because of that, we will spend every remaining moment of my life together. We will love together, laugh together, breathe together, sigh together, cry together, die together. Yes, till death do us part, I am married to writing. Born with a ring on my finger, I have always been and therefore must always be faithful to my one and only true love. Maybe that’s why I don’t date; I’ve yet to meet a man who could ever come close to equalling what writing is for me, to doing what writing does for me. Yes, there is no man I know on this earth right now who gives me as much excitement, as much of an emotional outlet, as much stability, as much love, and as much of a listening ear as does a sheet of paper. As of now, there is nothing no man can ever do for me that composing prose cannot.

Yes, right now, as I have always been, I am totally alone in my head and lost in my thoughts, and I am perfectly alright with that. That is simply who I am, and I love it. More than my life itself, I love the writing that I am able to do with it. And because of that love, I want to conquer all through words. No matter what comes of it, I want my many thoughts to finally be heard and maybe one day shape the world.

But what if that all changes? Sure, it’s been constant thus far, but what if?

I mean, I’m already starting to feel myself changing slowly (but surely) each and every day–and that’s what terrifies me. Yes, writing is still my one and only love in life, but I’m starting to think that I might not want it to always be that way. No, I might want more, to still be a writer but have other things, too.

Yes, now I might not want to spend the rest of forever alone in my head, doing nothing more than drifting through this world simply because I can’t pull myself out of the other, out of my other. For the first time in my life, I’m starting to crave a bit of reality. I want to start living on my own, becoming a fully independent human being. I want to move away from where I’ve grown up–to a whole other continent even. I want to dye my hair different colors of the rainbow just so I can somehow stand out from the crowd. I want to finally be the one who everyone on the street knows and says hi to each day. I’m even starting to once again, one day, want a man and a marriage and lots and lots and lots of children, but first I want to travel the world and go on adventures and live out all of my many dreams. Before I settle down, I want to roam and be known as the girl who travels all alone simply because she wants to see the beauty that is this world and its cultures and its people and its daily happenings. Suddenly, I want to be out there–I want to be different–and that’s what scares me.

But why am I changing, and why so suddenly? If I’ve been one way for the past 18 years, then how can I suddenly now want to wipe it all away, erasing who I was to try to start fresh? I loved me to death, so how can I now be abandoning that self by changing, by stepping out of my shell and seeking adventure instead of sitting by and observing it from afar in order to maybe write about it one day in the future? How can I be doing this? How is any of this even possible??

But I must remind myself: improbable, not impossible. My motto is that nothing in life is ever impossible. So change can, in fact, happen, Leah…

But am I even changing at all? What if I’ve always been this way and have just never noticed it? What if I’ve always had these emerging wants within me but have just never let them out–or have just never noticed that they were trying to come out? What if the me I lived before was actually the wrong one, the me to not be loved? What if this newness I feel is really who I am? What if the things that I’m discovering are what I’m actually supposed to be?

See, this is what scares me! Which part of the dichotomy do I choose: the old or the new? Or do I even pick? Maybe I simply embrace both and see what happens, see what grows from it. Is it possible to travel the world, write all the time, find a nice man, have a great job, stand out from the crowd, get married, have children, and live a genuinely good life all at the same time? It just seems so impossible! I want to live my dreams–all of my dreams–but can I? With who I am on the inside apparently changing, with new goals being tacked on to my bucket list seemingly every single day, can I really reach all of my goals? Or will I have to be like everyone else out there and pick and choose? Because I really don’t want to pick and choose! You see, I used to think that those people who aren’t living their dreams merely gave up on trying to get to where they wanted when the going got tough, but maybe they just became so overwhelmed and bogged down that they simply couldn’t handle it any longer, couldn’t keep up. Maybe they had to let go because they loved themselves too much to keep holding on. Maybe they didn’t give up but simply realized that not everything in life can be done.

Oh, but I don’t want that to be true! I don’t want to have to let go, to be forced to choose. I want everything that’s been living on in my head to one day come true, all of my dreams, both old and new. Is that really so bad? Is that really too much to ask?

Gosh, I think I might just be starting to grow up–something else I thought would never happen.

But, once again, I must remind myself: improbable, not impossible. Yes, Leah, nothing in life is impossible. Remember that.

Now…is it a good sign or a bad sign that, among all these changes, I’m still talking to myself?


Side Note Number Two: As I am finishing editing this on my iPad, a notification for a shopping app that I have has popped up on my screen. Instead of advertising a sale, it says, “Don’t quit your day dream.” I think this may just be some sort of divine sign.


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