As I've gotten older, I'm still really struggling to figure out who I am. I remember thinking when I was 17 years old, that in my 20s I would totally have it all figured out. Ten years later, and I'm more confused than ever.

I moved back to Louisville for a relationship that I truly believed in, and I'm so incredibly unhappy. I love my career, I love my friends, I love my hobbies, etc., but all of it doesn't feel quite right. I'm with someone I love, yet we don't share these things together. And isn't that what it's supposed to be? Aren't you supposed to share these best parts of your life with the one you love?

Lately, I wake up everyday already dreading coming home from work to see him. I truly feel like I live with someone who has no idea who I am. He doesn't know that I'm actually really funny. And then I come home, and he can't seem to stand my presence most days. He doesn't know that I'm a great listener. He doesn't know that I truly believe in paying it forward, and it gives me such a great feeling just doing such small things for strangers. He doesn't know that my heart feels full when I'm working with teenagers, because that age group has the most potential to lead and change. He doesn't know that when I was 19 years old, I applied to be an intern in Uganda to be part of a movement to rehabilitate child soldiers, because when I was younger, my dreams were limitless. A couple years later, I enlisted in the military to detonate roadside bombs, because my soul was itching to get out of my skin, and I needed more from life. He doesn't know that all my life I've craved something bigger than myself, and I've never felt fulfilled until I was part of something larger. I don't write anymore, I don't read anymore, I stopped researching opportunities because I was always waiting.

He doesn't know that last Saturday when I ran my first mini-marathon, that during the last half mile, a big part of me thought that maybe he would be waiting for me on one knee at the finish line. He didn't come to the race with me, but had been texting me throughout asking how far along I was, and I thought maybe he had snuck down there without me knowing and was trying to gauge my progress. I hobbled across the finish line, and I saw my parents. I was so happy to be finished, that I completed it, but I felt so stupid for thinking that he would be waiting for me at the end with a commitment like that. He doesn't know that I have given up this wandering, free spirit version of myself, because I met someone I wanted to share my life with. And that's my fault.

We never go get hot chocolate at barnes and noble so I can book shop and read the cards and magnets that I love. We never go see ballet, which I know is a stretch for most men. We never talk about my dreams and ambitions without shrewd practicality because that's who he is. We never shop for real Christmas tress, even though it's a tradition I always wanted. We don't ride roller coasters, we don't ice skate on my birthday, we don't even take the dogs for walks. I don't wear my denim jacket or ripped jeans, and I haven't put on my converse sneakers in over four years. I know it's stupid, but those things are who I've always been. I never got my tattoo, and probably never will now. And all of this is my fault. I wonder if he even loves the right girl. I'm sad almost all of the time, I'm bitter, resentful, and more frequently now I want to run away. What have I done?

I think I have tried so hard to make him love me more that I lost sight of myself a long time ago. And I do love him. At one time in our relationship, he did bring out the best in me. He balanced me out, and it worked perfectly. We haven't been like that in a few years. And I've been here all along, waiting for this next step because I love him, and I want so desperately to be loved. I really want someone to come home to, and someone to watch movies with and point out how unrealistic they are while we laugh, and someone to have lots of kids with so I can start new traditions with my family.

And my mom wants grandkids so badly. I get phone calls on a weekly basis, and I think my parents would be the best grandparents out there, so I want that for them. I'll be 27 soon, and the only true love I've ever had is falling apart, so they're just as tired as I am because now I'm back to square one. And if I can't figure this relationship out, I'm sure as hell not ever going to try again with someone else. I have given this 110%, and I have literally tried everything I can think of to make this work. So, to watch it crumble is so incredibly heartbreaking, and I know I'll never have it in me to ever be this vulnerable again. I'll never want to either. So, this was kind of my only shot. It sounds extremely pessimistic, I'm aware. But even when I was at my best, when I was my complete self, it still didn't last long. And at some point, you have to pick yourself up from the gutter, dust off, and tell yourself to keep walking. For me, that means taking my dog, my denim jacket, and my pure enthusiasm for life and refocusing on my career. It means finally letting the weight of needing to be loved go, and getting back to my 19 year old self who wanted to drop everything to go Uganda to delve into government and rebellion group movements. It's going back in time to the girl who thought everyone, regardless of race/religion/background/etc., deserved a chance at a good life.

I think this is my choice to make this time. It's just so unsettling to walk away from someone that you feel never even got the chance to know and love you. But I will never make this mistake again.