Penny For Your Thoughts

 Starting over is beyond strange. I just moved away from home for the first time, and the constant advice thrown my way is to "be yourself." How can I possibly be myself if I am simultaneously establishing who I want to be? What if I don't know who I am, to begin with, therefore making it difficult to be myself? Prior to moving, I felt that I had a decent grasp on who I am as a person, but I've realized that this feeling of security in my identity came from people around me, particularly my family, that have known me for my entire life and therefore did not require me to explain my entire identity to them. Now, I meet someone new almost every single day.  Every time I meet a new person, they want to know who I am. These new people don't know who I am. They do not know the nicknames I had as a child, my favorite color, any of my friends from home, or anything about the major life experiences that have formed who I am. I am constantly explaining layers of myself and

 Imagine having been the first person on earth to fall in love with someone else. That would have been such a hard thing to explain to another person.  Feeling love for another person is so difficult to explain to another person with simple words. It's easier to explain your love for someone else by showing it. I hope that someday, you fall in love so deeply that you cannot use words to describe it. For those who have not experienced it, words are impossible. For those who have, words are not necessary. -Emma Lancaster

 He really makes me crazy. I can't exactly describe what it is about him that makes me feel this way, but there is something.  He makes me want to go for a walk at two in the morning. He makes me want to fight a seemingly daunting distance. He makes me want to argue about proper usage of the English language until I'm so riled up that I can't speak properly.  He makes me want to scroll through my camera roll every night and smile at the pictures that we have together. He makes me want to fly across the country just for a hug. He makes me want to call every night to say goodnight. He makes me want to tell everyone I know that I'm falling again, but simultaneously makes me want to keep our little romance to myself in a beautiful memory laced with fireworks on a hot July night. I can't exactly describe how this all came to be.  I just know that it is and it will be.  It's the best kind of crazy. When I said I feel alive, I meant it. -Emma Lancaster

 The night before I left, I found myself in an overwhelmed state of mind. I sat on that darn floor. I looked at the suitcase on my bed. I looked at the clothes on my floor. I looked at the college supplies, also on the floor. I looked at the rubbermaid tote sitting next to me on the floor, meant to hold said college supplies. Less than 30 seconds later, I was the one in the rubbermaid tote. Not my college supplies.  It really is hilarious, looking back.  I believe I called that moment a "level seven freak out." I was so stressed out about packing and getting ready for the trip that I forgot to be excited about the trip itself.  I sat in that rubbermaid tote for a good and solid thirty minutes before I finally got out, packed my suitcase, and zipped it shut. I went to bed after that. When I woke up the next morning, I remembered how to be excited. I finished packing everything quickly and was ready to leave four hours early. I took a deep breath as the car pulled out of the dr

 All the time I have been gone and not writing, I have been living.  I have been living so that I might come back here and write about the things I have lived and seen and done and heard.  There are some lived moments that will remain mine. I don’t think I want to share them, for sharing such things would not make them 100% mine anymore.  Other moments though, have done much good for me. I feel that by sharing them, they may make you smile too.  I hope you are ready for a plethora of moments, my love.  -Emma Lancaster