Day 35: Adult.

I've been miserable all day. From the moment I woke up until now, everything's just felt hopeless. I feel empty. Just... empty.

Since high school or maybe even before I've lived my life believing that everything happens for a reason. Believing there's a bigger plan. But right now, I just feel like it's all been a lie.

Why did I have to leave last summer? Everything was set up perfectly. I was happy here. So happy. I felt like I was surrounded by people who saw me for me. I felt like the city was the most amazing place I'd ever been. I felt like I was getting a good grasp on the language and the culture. Each day seemed like a new, blissful gift full of mystery and pure amazement. I would sit quiet, alone, listening to my iPod all over Madrid and I would have the biggest smile on face (sometimes even tears in my eyes) thanking the universe for such an amazing journey. I'd never felt so much gratitude bubble up within myself on a daily basis. I would stop and take a few moments each day and just ask myself, "Is this real?"

And then I had to leave.

I told myself it was okay. Or, rather, I told myself that it would be okay. There were many reasons I had to go back and I would be better prepared when I returned the next year. It was the way things were meant to be - if it weren't, it wouldn't have happened that way. I wouldn't have been so close to being able to stay and just have it pulled away from me for no reason. I had to have faith in that.

But now, I think it was all just a bad practical joke on me.

I went back to make money so I could travel when I came back here. I made money, sure, but it was practically all gone by the time I landed back in Madrid. I went back to try to put myself in someone's world and see what would happen. That world made me hate myself and the person I spent that whole year with barely exists anymore. I went back to grow and become the best version of myself I could be so when I came back I'd have an even better time than I did last summer. The truth is, I lost everything good about myself while I was gone - or at least it feels that way.

And now that I'm back? Nothing's the same. I don't walk the streets looking up at the buildings and have my breath taken away by their beauty and history. I avoid speaking Spanish as much as I can because it just seems like a reminder of how stupid I am/what a waste of a college degree it's been and a nuisance instead of an opportunity for growth and a linguistic adventure. The people I loved all have moved on and I hardly even recognize them - and even if I did, I'm too ashamed of how far I've drifted away from who I was when they met me to even have the courage to try. School and work feel like the worst chore of all and I'm not even interested in the information I'm to learn, anyway.

So what was the point? Why give me everything I wanted, only to take it away and have me lose a year of my life in the process? Why even send me back here when nothing's how I left it? What was once my blissful paradise is now hardly distinguishable from a monotonous perdition.

It would have been nicer if I could have just remembered Madrid as a wonderful place - a place where I was truly happy and myself. I didn't need to come back and be disappointed like this. It feels like the biggest loss seeing it like this.

And the worst part is, I've run out of places to run.

And I'm still missing.

I thought I left myself here, but try as I might, I'm nowhere to be found.

So now what? All day today I kept having the jarring realization that THIS is life. THIS is being an adult. I thought I would know more. I thought I would be better prepared. I thought I'd be even the slightest bit happy. I thought I'd feel loved and cherished for who I have grown to be. But I'm not.

I don't know what I'm doing. And I can't run to anyone here and just cry and say I'm scared, because there is no one here. And I don't really feel like I have a home to return to - to run to and hide under the covers. Because I've tried on homes all over the US and none of them are there anymore and none of them fit.

There's a quote that says something along the lines of be the type of person you'd like to meet. Right now I wouldn't even notice somebody like me, much less try to get to know them. I've been trying this week to become the new and improved Chelsea. And I wasn't doing too badly, either, until I looked around and realized that nobody is even there to notice, so what's the point? I started from the outside in and for what?

Since I was in middle school I've always needed someone in front of me to motivate me. Motivate me to be a good writer. Motivate me to become a good debater. Motivate me to get into UW Madison. Motivate me to learn a new language. Motivate me to graduate early. Motivate me to make money. Motivate me to get back to Spain.

Even if the tacky idea of being my own motivation were there, I don't even know what to work toward. And that's a really awful feeling.

The one thing I really look forward to in the week is Tuesday night in the city with a cupcake, my favorite pizza, a fanta and catching the metro to my tango lesson. That is life. That is the life I've dreamed of having. For those three hours each week, I am truly happy. I'm happy because it's like my own secret world. I'm learning. It's something I'm good at. I'm surrounded by people there to help me improve on something I adore. The physical manifestation of a verbal witty banter. It's all there. And for a few hours, I'm myself again. And oh, I really love myself. It's such a relief to see her again. I'm so proud of her - so enchanted by her.

But the rest of the week? I'm just going through the motions. And that's the last thing I've ever wanted for my life.

It's not that it's so bad. It's not. It's just that there's no passion, no motivation, no excitement. It is what it is. And I hate when things are as they are.

I moved back here to have an adventure. Instead from 8:00am 'til 7:30pm I'm doing the same thing four and a half days a week. And I look forward to the weekend, until I realize the weekend isn't filled with adventures or people close to me, but trying to keep myself busy to forget about everything that I used to have that's all but disappeared.

What if this is life? What if this is my life as an adult. Not knowing. Feeling alone. Crying. Being lost. I just feel so disappointed in myself. I just feel so unloved by the few people who I've spent the past few years of my life trying so hard to love. They don't even notice I'm gone.

So why? Why was my happy paradise yanked away from my last August? I could have continued to be happy. But instead I'm so miserable. What did I do so wrong to deserve it? And if everything happens for a reason, what is that reason and when am I going to be shown it? Because it's been such a long time since I smiled and meant it.