Sierra Lancaster has had an agonizingly mediocre life. She grew up in a happy home, made loyal friends, graduated college, and is now pursuing her dream of running her own bakery. Boring, right? A story like this wouldn't be one for the books. At le...
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I pride myself in being an upbeat person. No matter what troubles I faced in the past, I always did my best to stay positive like my parents taught me. Those two are the definition of sunshine and constantly have rainbows shooting out of their asses so it's only fitting that I'm the same.
But these days it's like there's a constant dark cloud hanging over my head.
I'm officially a month into my move to California and it's nothing like I thought it would be. Not by a long shot. I haven't made a single friend, my bakery is in the absolute dumps, and this city doesn't feel anything like home. I just feel so...alone.
Admittedly, I also feel like a failure. I remember being in my teens and early twenties and having no clue how to handle life or knowing where mine would end up. My only consolation was that I'd have it figured out when I was in my thirties. I'd have it all put together, you know? Steady job, a boyfriend or a husband, maybe kids, and flourishing in all aspects. But I've come to learn that your thirties are nothing more than a repeat of your twenties, just with more knowledge and independence. I can't believe I used to think of thirty-year-olds as adults who had everything figured out. Ha. Talk about a scam.
Because the truth is I don't have anything figured out. I don't know if my bakery is going to make it or if I'll be forced to shut it down. I don't know if I can handle being away from all my family and friends in Minnesota anymore. I don't know how much longer I can wake up everyday with a lump in my throat because I have nothing to look forward to. I'm swimming in this in between of unanswered questions and loneliness and it makes me feel nothing like the adult I am. I just feel lost, like I want someone to hold my hand and figure things out for me while I take a break. But the thing about being an adult is you can't catch one and you are the only one that can save yourself.
My shoes pound against the pavement with each step I take, running steadily. I breathe through my nose, exhale through my mouth, and try to concentrate on the beat of the song blasting in my ears. I run as if I'm trying to leave my problems behind and maybe I am. But I can't no matter how fast I go so I just go faster because I'm not ready to accept that yet. I'm not ready to accept that I'm the only one whose life is falling apart while everybody else is holding steady. Talk about the suck of all sucks.
"Sierra!"
I make a face, taking out one earphone and looking at it as if it just spoke to me. I'm pretty sure I just heard my name. Then I try to figure out if my name was in the song or my subconscious made me believe someone was calling me, because it tends to do that a lot when I'm listening to music and I hate it.
I put the bud back in again and pick up my pace once more. It's another few seconds of nothing until—
