My Clay

For too long I've been trying to make everyone else happy. I stayed in a relationship for a year longer than I should have before I finally ended it, I turned a blind eye again and again to another boyfriend's cheating and lying, I took college courses when I really had no business doing so, and I've given up so much to be where I am now. Over the past year I've been slowly learning the difference between my wants and other people's wants. I've discovered that there IS a difference. I'm not a rug for other people to walk on, clay for other people to shape. I am the sculptor, and the clay is MY life. I can let other people add their own indentations to it, but I don't have to keep them, and I sure as heck need to get off my tuckus and grab that clay for myself.
I'm ready to go back to school. I'm ready to graduate. I'm ready for a real job. I'm ready to take charge of myself and my life and not let other people take care of me.