Britbird.

Most nights I sit here and think about what I could write that would be creative; something that would stand out for the few eyes who read this. I realized, last night, as I scrolled through pictures and font on tumblr that the best writes I write are only when I'm sad. When someone has broken me or pushed me to the point of tears, is when I can write novels. I should find this to be a good reason for not writing as much in the last couple of months.

I have realized that moving to a new location doesn't make you a new person. I still look for temporary happiness in the worst forms. I still feel tired at 2pm. I still go for the guy who wears vans and has commitment issues. I still look for flights going away from where I reside. And I still feel homesick for a place that doesn't exist.

After a weekend away from my new home I'm starting to realize that running from experience doesn't ever further the growth that is meant to happen. Through experience we gain maturity and the outcome helps shape our reaction to a similar situation in the future.
 If I constantly resort to my natural habit of "running", whether that be physically or mentally, then I will forever be running from reality. Forever running means never experiencing and never experiencing 

means never maturing.