WARNING: This post is going to be super self-indulgent. When you start thinking, "Jeeze, this girl is constantly talking about herself" don't say I didn't warn ya.
I turn 23 today.
TWENTY. THREE. That's 23 years of life, which consists of years of not having my shit together, a thousand crushes on men while on public transportation, a few years of having an emo/scene haircut, loving boybands and traveling to see them, falling in love with my friends, spending way too much money on poutine, and petting every single dog I could see.
I'm going to sound like that girl but to be completely honest: 22 by Taylor Swift was very accurate. I actually was happy, free, confused and lonely - all at the same time. Turning 22 was a new chapter; it was my first birthday single in a few years, I wasn't in school then, and I was happily welcoming change with open arms. A year ago I posted something called things upon things. I talk about waking up every morning and choosing where I want to go and who I want to be, and that's kinda the way I've been living my life ever since. I started to take writing more seriously during these 364 days. I started writing for She Did What She Wanted, I started writing more thought provoking pieces on this little blog, and I began writing my own book, cause why the hell not?
Every year I get older it feels like I am saying how different I am than I was at the age the year previous. At 22, I felt so different from 21 and so on. I'm turning myself into a joke by saying this every year, but I also know that being in your twenties you are constantly changing and growing into a person you wish to be. Having said all of that... I feel good. I feel happy. I feel loved. As horrifying as being closer to 25 than 20 is to me, I am entering 23 in a place where I'm more confident than I've ever been. It might've taken 23 years to get here.. But I'm here, and that's all that matters.
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