Half

I feel like I should be doing more than I am. I feel like I should be grabbing this country as tightly as I can, until its heart beats inside me and echos to me what it’s all about. I feel like I should be running everywhere, so that I can do everything, so that not a second passes me by. I should be constantly beaming, like everyone else. I should be planning trips and making bonds that will never fade. But I’m not. I’m not and I want to and I can’t. I mean, part of that has to do with my lack of money, which is understandable. The other part, though? I don’t know.

I feel like no one sees me, like I’m invisible. I can go out with my friends, and no one will look at me. That's not even an exaggeration. They’ll look at my friends. They’ll look at their friends. They’ll smile and order drinks for anyone, just not me. Because I’m that half person and half isn’t good enough. But I don’t know how to become whole.

I feel sometimes like I’m not supposed to be anything but happy. Because I’m in Ireland and that’s an amazing opportunity that most people never ever get to have, so I better be fucking jovial or I might as well go home. But, I don’t want to go home. I want to be here, and I want here to be real. I want to figure out how to make here real. I just haven’t, yet.

***

On a positive note, though, because I feel really bad writing this sort of post, I saw the cutest dog today. It was tiny, fluffy, and white, and it was literally skipping. And by literally, I mean literally. It even had a grin on its face. I hadn’t even known it was possible for dogs to grin until then.