My name is Roxanne Vaughn, but you can call me Roxy. I'm a writer. Well, I'm trying to be a writer. I know that dropping out of pre-med and choosing to pursue a degree in English was a risky move in our current society. A society where money and success determine whether or not you are worthy of happiness. Of a good life. Of love.
I am in love with love. That all-encompassing, can't think, can't breathe, can't eat sort of love. There's nothing more beautiful than knowing your heart belongs to someone else, and their heart belongs to you. That you have met the one person who will make you happy until death do you part. Your soul mate.
I'm not, however, in love with my fiancé.
I love him like a child loves their favorite stuffed animal. It's comforting. It's warm. It's been around forever. It has some serious wear and tear, but it's weathered the emotional storms by your side.
It's a different sort of love. One that I'm afraid to lose.
I left Northern California to run away from the first man I ever truly loved because he did not love me. I ran straight into the open arms of Zachary Cameron, drawn in by his handsome features, his sense of humor, and the adoration he showered upon me as if I were a goddess deserving of worship. At least, that's how it felt at the time.
Living in San Diego isn't so bad. I have friends. I have a cat. I have crippling anxiety.
Maybe I am on the path to becoming a penniless writer. Maybe I'm destined to wait tables to afford a college education. Maybe I'm in a relationship whose foundation is built on lies. Maybe the expectations I've placed on my soul mate are too high.
It's not easy being a twenty-something year old girl desperately trying to find her place and purpose in this world. A very little bird terrified of the great, big sky.
Maybe you've already taken that leap of faith - trusted your wings to take you higher and higher into the sky with others you love, and who love you. But I think I'll just sit here on this safe branch and wait.
Because this branch isn't so bad. And the other bird on this branch has loved me despite my ugliest moments. Maybe it's not that all encompassing love, and maybe I want to push that bird off the branch most of the time, but that's life.
It's okay to be a little unhappy as long as you don't wind up alone.
Right?
