Hopelessly hopeful.

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I am an optimist. And it bugs people.

I try not to be annoying about it. But I’ve kinda had a strange life. Not all of it good. Quite a bit of death. Painful rejections. Failed relationships. Lost friends. You know, like everyone else’s. Just a little more intense at times.
 
But I decided a while ago that I wasn’t going to let my experiences define who I am, only shape me and teach me. And as new-agey-omigod-gag-me as that sounds, I was going to be happy. I was going to stay content with who I was, work on what I didn’t like, and expect the best from life.
 
Positivity surely brings positive things. So far so good, though I have my doubts like everyone else.
 
Some days I wake up and wonder what the hell am I doing quitting a job I like, leaving my family and moving to Scotland in 18 days to live with a guy that I’ve spent all of 3.5 months with in person. Well I’m nuts. Young. Adventurous.
 
In love.
 
And lately the wake up (and day-to-day living) has been underscored with little, fluttery, soft butterflies, tickling my stomach and throat and making me squirm every now and then with a silly little smile and internal (mostly) squeak. It’s so so close now. The light is there at the end. 
 
I can see it.
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