exactly one year ago, i was living in an upstairs game room in the house of my childhood nanny and i was a graduated senior and i was online buying dorm room accessories for my first year at west virginia university and i was juicing (kill me, i was consuming all my food in the form of juice. please stab me with the knife that i cut all those damn beets with) and i was working a part-time job at a fancy little gym and i was excited to be a real college student, a real mountaineer and study forensic science and meet an entirely new group of friends and people and spend the next four years in morgantown and develop into a grad-school-ready adult.

exactly ten months ago, i was going through rush and trying to convince myself that it’s what all girls in college do and that i have to rush and i’m glad i did because i met two girls that i consider some of my best friends and we even ended up becoming “sisters” if that’s what you want to call it and we did everything together and we always bitched about the cliques that our sorority always broke off into but we were no different and we always went to dunkin donuts as if it was our lifeline. (remember when they ran out of pumpkin, best friends? remember how genuinely upset i was? and remember how everyone at dunkin knew my order and already had it started the second i walked in the door? remember how bad ass i felt?)

exactly four months ago, my mother and i went to georgetown to spend a couple of days shopping, sight-seeing, hanging out and this was the first time i brought up a transfer. i think she saw it coming. we talked about it for a little and then got americanos and walked the beautiful streets of the national mall.

exactly two and a half months ago, i made a list of four cities that i wanted to move to for the summer. (in no specific order….boston, wilmington, san diego and austin) everything for san diego basically panned out, so, with two weeks left of my freshman year, i officially withdrew from the following year, paid my upcoming rent for a shared bedroom in san diego and told everyone who mattered to me that i would not be returning to morgantown. and my roomie/best friend/frat-partner-in-crime knew it was coming, but she cried. and i had never seen somebody cry for my presence and it broke my heart. it didn’t change my mind, but it broke my heart.

exactly one point five months ago, my “life” in san diego began and i did (for the most part) exactly what i told everyone i would do. “i’m going to live life in the sun, get a job at a swanky coffee shop on the beach, meet people and just be.” i actually said that when people asked what i was going to do out here all alone.

exactly 17 days ago, i was officially kicked out of my first place of stay and moved in with a dude i met on tinder. how bizarre, right? like, “hey dude, my name is karli, i will not have sex with you but i’m going to need to move all my shit into your place asap, cool?”

exactly thirty minutes ago, i was sipping my morning coffee and going over my final decision and thinking to myself that i could make it here, i could find random roommates and find an “affordable” place to share with them, i could find a new job and take up extra hours to cover the ridiculous yet inevitable rent, i could register for classes at a community college that i’ve yet to actually see in person and just roll with the punches, but then i thought to myself that i am 19 years old. i need to simmer way down. i don’t want to completely extinguish this feisty-unsetteling-curious-fire that is lit beneath me, but i have to slow down.

so, yes, i am moving. again. completely changing everything about my life, again. and i’m excited but i’m ready to settle down for a bit and be a 19 year old.

with every centimeter of my soul, i love california and i cannot wait to return.. at a more practical time.

thoroughly enjoying my last week here,





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say it to my face, dude. (enter your comment below, i love all forms of feedback)

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