My Cup Runneth Over

Last night I smoked a cigar.

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I don’t know if you’ve ever smoked a cigar before, but 23 seems to be the age that Kelsea indulges. So, there I was, with some male coworkers of mine. We were sitting and I was being taught how to smoke a cigar. And once I got the hang of the dang thing… I cannot tell you how insanely relaxed I became. I propped my feet up, stared into the eyes of the person I was conversing with and slowly puffed, and existed in the moment.

And when I was watching the cloud of smoke drift away from my space, all I could think about was how happy I truly was; how fulfilled.

And for the first time in my life, not because my worth was being determined by who I was dating, or what my job title was, or what I was driving. I was fulfilled because the people in my life and the relationships I was forming were substantial. They were real. They were reciprocal transactions of positivity and productivity and, dare I say, love.




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