I'm turning 22 in less than two days.
Twenty two.
It's crazy fast time flies, doesn't it? I don't feel 22. Sometimes I think I'm still 18 mentally. I always thought I would be in a completely different place at 22. I thought 22 was an age where I knew where my career was going, I lived on my own, and I would be happy. One out of three ain't so bad, now is it? I am happy. There are a lot of circumstances I would change if I could, but I can't right now. I have to be patient and let things work themselves out.
If I look back at my 21st year, a lot things happened. I celebrated my birthday in company of the boy I love and a lot of good friends. I was drunk half way through the night and I can barely remember it. But he was there with me, which made it a better birthday than anything I could have this year. I said goodbye to said boy for nine whole months, which were torturous. But those nine months taught me that love isn't easy, no matter how many people are telling you that things will be okay. Sometimes, no amount of sympathy will make you feel better. I realized that I can be passionate about what I'm learning and that I do have an interest in specific things. I realized I love creating videos and capturing life through a lens. I learned how to perfect my cat eye liner and my sock bun. I decided to take care in my appearance, not because I want to please others, but because it makes me happy. I went to visit the boyfriend for the best three weeks of my year. And as we said goodbye, I managed to hold myself a little stronger because I knew we'd see each other again. I realized I don't want to settle for a good pay and an proper job if it doesn't fire me up with excitement. I realize home really is where to heart is and that people will be supportive of you even if you want to move away. I realized I have to get serious about money, otherwise things won't get handed to me on a silver platter. I was introduced to the Doctor, a chemistry professor with a funny side job, and strangely attractive private detective who calls himself a sociopath. I went to Paris, met Mickey Mouse, and put a lock on a bridge. I spent a lot of days waiting for Skype calls, counting time zones, and looking at flight prices online.
Still, twenty two is another year. Doesn't feel as exciting as turning 18, or as defying as 21. It doesn't have the weight of 25, or the knowledge of 30. I don't think even thirty-year-olds know what they're doing.
Either way, I think this going to be a good year. I'm graduating, I'm planning one of the biggest moves in my life, and I'm happy.
I have no idea what's going to happen in the next couple of months. Things could go a very different way and I could be lost by this time next year. But I'm excited about the possibilities. I think, personally, I have grown up a lot. I'm not the same kind of person I used to be a couple of years ago. I'm less confused about what kind of person I hope to be. I know I want to do something great with my life even though I haven't quite figured out how to achieve that. Sometimes I feel lonely, sometimes I feel hopeless. But I think I couldn't have stopped myself from feeling that way a few years ago, I would have simply dwelled in it. These days, I know where to look to push myself farther. I know I'm working towards something good.
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