Nine months ago, my lease ended. I’d spent a decade dreaming of living in Colorado, but less than a year after arriving, I’d fallen flat on my face. So, with no money, and no plan, I Ieft the mountainous landscape I’d always desired, and moved home.
I told myself the stay was only temporary, but the truth was, I had no idea how long it'd last. And as week after week of solitude and minimal hours at my work from home job went by, I became increasingly hopeless. But after several months of fighting the urge to accept the familiar sites of my childhood room as reality, and acting out like some moody teenager, I began to appreciate this time.
I’d spent a lifetime listening to the blaring societal noise around me, but in the silence of my solitude, my own voice became audible.
Bored of Netflix, and YouTube, I turned on my own story. And for months I dissected everything from past relationships, to career choices. With each revisited chapter of my existence, an understanding grew, and a purpose was born. Now, after a novel of introspective thought, I feel as if I’m truly ready to take on this journey.
In three weeks it begins.