Musing on Twenty-Two

It’s easy to write when you have an idea of what you want to say — or what you want to give up. It’s harder to write when you’re not quite willing to let that shell inside of you crack open. 

    

I will say though, that I’m happy — for the most part — I’m happy. I see that it’s possible and while some days are harder than others, most days are just perfect. 

    

Perfect in a way that from the outside you’d think I had it all — and I think I do, most of the time. I’m quite aware of the fact that I’m incredibly lucky sat where I am. 

    

My soul is a bit melancholic though — there’s a certain kind of sweetness to it — and I can say with certainty that sometimes I just like the taste. 

    

I tried to give up sugar for a whole month in September. I ended up having to have cheat days, but that was mostly to curb the insanity. It’s a hard thing to do and I have mad respect for those who can do it with ease.

    

I’m not entirely sure why I stopped writing. I think the summer went by all too fast, those last two months especially, and while I was sad to see it go I was expectant for the year ahead — it held so many unknowns. 

    

A couple things I did know was that I was moving in with my best friend and while neither of us would say we have it all together, we’ve made a little home for ourselves here. We’ve carved out a little space for ourselves in this city that’s just ours and while it might not be glamorous it’s pretty fucking cool. 

    

Halloween is coming up, which also means so is my birthday. I’ve always been kind of bitter that those two things almost go hand in hand. Dressing-up Halloween PTSD? But twenty-two seems fairly significant if not just for the repetition of digits. It’s hard not to get Taylor Swift stuck in your head when you think of it. The funny thing is, though, I’m not actually feeling twenty-two. If I’m honest I feel much older than that most times, so when I think of another year gone I can’t help but think of another year older. 

    

Another year and not much closer to finding myself. 

    

And maybe you never quite do. 

    

I was reading Meg Fee’s blog and in one of her essays she said she wouldn’t want to relive her twenties. It was something that made me think I was on a similar path...because so far they have been really hard. They’ve changed a whole heck of a lot in me, but they’ve been all about facing my fears. A constant battle between that little voice inside my head saying ‘I can’t do it’ to another saying ‘i have to’. 

    

And while that’s exhilarating, it takes a toll. And sometimes it feels a little relentless. And it feels like everyday you wake up it’s the same struggle between the two, over and over and over again. 

    

I guess what I want to know is if it gets any easier? If there’s a place in between here and monotony. Between waging a battle every morning and living in a cyclical routine. Or maybe my personality or even just life is one of two extremes and some seasons call for one over the other. 

    

Maybe your twenties are supposed to be extremes and as you get older the gap slowly closes until it’s not much of a gap at all.

 

In which case, I'm one year closer. And that's something to celebrate.