I very recently moved to
Canada. A fairly small town in
Southwestern Ontario to be exact. After having already once moved three thousand miles for
a guy I thought was the one and making ominous threats to myself should I ever have the audacity to do it again, I have. Why? Well, despite the madness of moving form sunny Southern California to butt ass cold
Canada in
February, I truly do believe in my heart of hearts that
this is
it. For real this time.
How do i know, you ask? I didn't, really. I was pretty much goin on gut instinct until last night. As I lie in bed around one a.m. my boyfriend asked me if I was
happy. I haven't been a happy person in a very, very long time. I mean, don't get me wrong,
I'm not miserable. Far from it. I can be pretty much content and entertain myself anywhere I happen to be. But to have that feeling that I really want to get up in the morning and I'm motivated and I want to do nice things for people because.....I'm so happy....well,
that's the kinda joy I'm talkin about.
And you know what? It's really fuckin' nice.