Twenty-three has been hard. I think harder for me to admit because I’m not one to concede to difficulty. Even now that twenty-four is on the horizon it’s easy to say it must not have been too bad because I survived.
But that’s the thing. I feel harder and tougher around the edges because of it. Twenty-three was for toughening up. For lessons learned about myself that I thought I already knew but am actually experiencing which is proving to be interesting.
For still working on weeding out the bad from the good—times, friends, judgement. You know.
I still feel young. Like not as much of an adult as I guess I am. Like my parents are still my parents and I guess that’s not ever going to change even though I sort of expected it to.
Like even though I do adult things such as pay bills and have a career. Somehow it still feels slightly make believe.
Maybe it’s not about age at all. I mean I know this. But I think I’m starting to realize it’s more about experiences and knowing yourself. I’ve always thought I would immediately feel older once I saw the candles on the cake on June 17.
Twenty-three may have been rough and terrible at times. But like I said, I’ve almost made it out and I feel better for it. I feel more confident in who I am. I feel happy mostly and sad when I need to be. But most of all. I feel hopeful. Like twenty-four is going to be great and exciting things are happening. Like I’m coming out of the fog and the horizon is at my fingertips.