Life isn't about finding yourself. Life's about creating yourself. -Author Unknown
Allow me to introduce myself. Kourtney, living on my own for the first time in Springfield, Missouri. I'm going to Missouri State University- the third school I've attended since starting college. I used to be a journalism major (thinking I'd found my calling when I became managing editor of my high school paper). Now I'm trying like hell to get into the nursing program- in 2012. Talk about starting over- this should be my last year, and now I'm in an all-new program.
Let's start from the beginning.
I grew up in a fairly small farm town. I went to a private Lutheran school all the way up through eighth grade (with the exception of second semester in seventh- don't ask). At the time, I wanted to be like so many other kids in the town and go to public school; you know, ride the school bus (we had none), use a locker (we had cubbies), etc. But now that I look back on it, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll probably send my own kids there some day (if I can afford it). I was always the fat kid growing up there, and in classes that small, the kids were vicious (yet another reason I thought public school must be better). But at least I had something going for me- I like to think that I'm fairly intelligent; I was the valedictorian of my eighth grade class. Although I'm not sure it counts when there's only four kids total. Still, when I finally graduated from high school, I was in the top quarter of the class, so I get points for that, right?
Ah, high school. I don't know about most other 21-year-olds, but I freaking miss high school. I was scared to death when we began, because then we actually did get to go to public school and I had heard all the typical horror stories. But I quickly found my own way. I played volleyball, had the newspaper (as I mentioned earlier), loved Spanish class, and lived for the lunchroom chatter. No responsibilities- I had a job at 16 and haven't been jobless since (except for now, while I'm looking since I moved). The only reason I had said job was for gas and spending money. Freshman year flew by, as I played volleyball, basketball, and track & field (mostly field). As that year came to a close, I began to outgrow some of my leftover baby fat and actually started to look like the pretty girl that had been inside me all along. I had my first ever boyfriend that year. My parents didn't exactly approve, but it wouldn't be any fun if they liked all of them! But they are usually right, so that one didn't last long.
Sophomore year began and I cut my sports down to just volleyball (although now I wish I'd kept basketball as well). I played in the Powderpuff football games. I was in Fellowship of Christian Athletes and eventually became an officer. I was in National Honor Society and never wanted to be an officer. I dated new boys, older boys, just boys in general. I started driving in September and then I thought I had reached it- the point in life where it couldn't get any better. Volleyball games through the week, football games on Friday nights, and then hanging out with my friends the rest of the weekend, all courtesy of my own wheels. I drove a '95 Acura Integra, peeling paint and all, but I loved that car.
It seemed the better it got, the faster it went by.
Junior year is a blur to me now- I don't remember many specifics at all. It was all in preparation for the grand finale, our senior year. When it began, we had the t-shirts, the cocky attitudes, the whole bit. And I loved every minute of it. I realized it just kept getting better, despite what I had thought before.
Then I met Greg.
Greg, a guy who was four years older than me, who was dreamy and mysterious and a little bit of a badass. We dated for about a month and a half, and I was so lovestruck I didn't see the signs. We only hung out on Sundays, usually at my house. We never went in public together. And if we talked, it was always late at night, right before he went to bed.
So we went through a rough time- as in, he was dating other girls and I didn't know it until I saw them together one night. I won't ever forget that. I couldn't breathe- like he had drawn back and punched me in the stomach. We were driving opposite directions down the strip and I had to pull over because I was afraid the tears would make me crash and burn. I had never felt the way I felt about him, and then it seemed like I was just another face in the crowd to him. We quit talking for several months, but he was always in the back of my mind.
Then one night in November 2005 (after I had turned 18), a friend and I were going to a bar to dance. When we finally got in the door, his face reached out and grabbed me. I wanted to say something, but I was at a loss for words. A half hour later, he sent me a text. An hour later, he was apologizing and asking about my family. And a week later, we were dating again. He was my boyfriend through the rest of my senior year (he even went to my prom with me). He was my boyfriend through my freshman year of college. We moved in together in June 2007. Then in December that same year, he proposed. I said yes with all my heart and thought I'd never be happier than I was then. We set the date for October 18, 2008.
Then it fell through, because of the bad economy and my parent's lack of funding.
So we waited. And waited. And finally rescheduled for August 8, 2009.
On June 4, I broke up with him.
Even now, I'm not sure why I did it. I was confused about what I wanted to do with my life, and I didn't know if I wanted to go away to school or stay in that town and go back to the community college. I felt like I needed a second chance to prove myself to, well... myself. I didn't know who I was anymore. And I figured if I didn't know who I was or what I wanted, how could I possibly promise myself to someone else forever? He was so upset at first, and then he went into a kind of denial mode. He kept asking to meet me, or he'd send me random texts about how sad he was. Or whatever.
So we date. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. He's happier for it, that much is obvious. But he also is so afraid of going back to not talking to me that he tries too hard. He's always touching me, holding my hand or wanting a kiss. He gets upset if I don't call, or if I forget to text him at least once a day. He's smothering me and it's making the whole thing worse. I can't even tell if I miss him and I'm three hours away from home and family and him! He's driving me crazy, and I can hardly stand to be around him lately. I told him I'd give us a second chance, but it's kind of putting mine on hold.
But for now, I'm trying to see past it. I'm living for the moment here in Springfield, going to class and loving my newfound freedom. I'm writing again (obviously), something I haven't done in a long time. I'm trying to make it on my own, and see who I can be.
Kourtney scribbled at 3:05 pm
