A year ago today I moved back home to Centerville, OH. The move was decided on the basis of emotions, but I think it was the best decision I could've made. Granted I left a ton of great friends (leaving friends, however, doesn't mean leaving friendships, and I get to see all those guys several times a month), but I knew that I had to escape Cincinnati for the healing of my own soul. Healing did come, in time. When I first moved home, I questioned the decision constantly, but I refused to back down.
I can be indecisive, but when I make a decision, I generally stick with it. No matter what.
So I stayed home despite constantly wrestling with whether or not it was a good idea. I reconnected with several friends whom I hadn't seen in a while--Patrick, Dewenter, Ashlie, Chris, among others--and I was closer to two of my best friends since fifth grade, Dylan and Tyler. The first week of my return, Dylan and I went out for drinks at a favorite restaurant of ours, The Rusty Bucket. He had a beer and I had a double shot of Maker's Mark. We went to Barnes & Noble and perused the books and I fantasized about moving to Alaska and he told me, "You're cynical now, but I think your cynicism will break. I think you'll perceive things differently, eventually." I didn't believe him at the time, but it's true. I got a job, made a ton more friends--not least Jessica, Carly, Kyle and Leah--and dated two different girls before meeting Elle. Life is good, hope shines brighter, I laugh more often and have a lot to live for. So, as for an anniversary: a year ago I made a questionable decision, wondered if I'd regret it, and I haven't yet.
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