I turn 25 in a month and three days. A MONTH AND THREE DAYS! 25 seems so legit. So significant. So scary but also kind of comforting? A birthday is always a nice starting point to be someone else. To start fresh. But it’s also a scary reminder that life is SHORT and before you know it, you’ll be 90 and living in a nursing home with hopefully a dog.
25 seemed so grown up to me when I was 17. It seemed still, so foreign to me when I was 20. And now, a month shy from 25, it’s honestly hard to believe.
25 to me, used to entail’ ultimately becoming a grown up ‘. It used to mean having all my shit together. Like maybe having furniture that was actually brand new. Like perhaps shopping at Macys instead of Forever 21. Or maybe actually being in a healthy relationship that was longterm instead of crushing on random bartenders. And having a puppy to call my own .
None of that has happened yet.
But the thing is, I feel perfectly fine with my life right now. Sure, I don’t have the fancy things I believed I would have by now. Sure, I don’t have a wonderful boyfriend. Sure, I don’t have a cute fluffy puppy of my own. And I don’t even have a car. But I’ve still come far. I’ve still grown into a better person than I was a year ago. I’m still learning and inhaling and surviving. I’m still learning how to thrive.
I’ve stimulated lots of mistakes. LOTS of mistakes. I’ve pissed people off. I’ve said the incorrect things. I’ve loved the wrong people. I’ve detested the right people. I’ve experienced loss and loss again. I’ve been lazy and unmotivated. I’ve been numb, and I’ve also felt everything. I’ve been bright and sparkly, but I’ve also been dull.
I’m always changing. Always evolving into a person I want to be proud of. And I’m still learning how to love myself.
Sure, I don’t have all of my boxes checked off and perhaps I don’t have everything I require or want yet. But perhaps I don’t really require those things after all.
I’m just thankful.
Because I’m nearly 25, and I still feel like a kid. I don’t need the material things I supposed I would want. I don’t need the boyfriend or the house. I don’t need even stability. I just need to keep experiencing everything. The good and the bad. The bright and the gloomy.
I only need to keep going.
And maybe, only maybe, one day, I’ll wake up and smile because I’m not where I thought I would be. Maybe I’ll simply be happy to only.
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