Only need the light when it's burning low

I'm not really sure what I want right now. In that same sense, I'm not really sure what I need. 

I thought I did. I think I do, at least for the most part. But it seems that my purpose has been lacking lately. I just keep waiting for the day when a fresh blanket of snow coats the yard, for when I wake up and feel the urge to jump out of bed because I have something to look forward to. Not just the normal, everyday excitement, but that gut wrenching passion. 

I still have my passion. It just seems to be so much harder to find these days. I only seem to find creative freedom behind my camera, when I don't have to talk and I can just let my mind do what it does. When my fingers are flying across my keyboard, writing out things that I wasn't even aware I was feeling. I find some feelings of endorphin's when I'm at the gym, but I miss the quiet comfort of Advantage. Of not being stared at by awkwardly muscled old men, giving me pointers. 

I'm not really sure what I'm looking for.

 Maybe it's the waiting. The fact that the more I work, the closer the fateful day comes when I get my sassy green cap and jauntily walk off into the future. That the day when it all changes is not too far off. 

Maybe I'm waiting for a sign. A sign of what, I'm not really sure. A sign for what, I'm even less sure of.  

Maybe I'm waiting for someone else besides myself to love me. I mean, I know I'm pretty damn fantastic, but it would be nice for someone else to acknowledge it besides my mother. (Don't get me wrong, I love praise from my mother. But eventually, I would like to maybe get married, and not live alone forever being Connor's built in dog-sitter.) 

Maybe I'm waiting for me to actually start loving myself. By going to the gym, and thinking of myself first. Sometimes, not getting the selfish teenager gene has its downfalls. I used to spend every moment taking care of every living breathing thing around me. Now, I seem to be caught. Seems as though that doing that last time backfired. The last bajillion times in fact. 

But again, I have to remember what I've blogged about in the past: I can't save everyone. I can't scrub away everyone's problems, worries, doubts, regrets, even just their asshole personalities. Sometimes, I need to remember to just walk away. 

I need to breathe, regroup. Move forward. Find something to love again. Find my love again. 

Maybe it's just a funk.