How did I manage to make it to 25? It’s incredible when you really think about it. 25 years of living, loving, breathing. Granted, I never really did anything that could truly jeopardize my entire health and well-being, but still – 25 years is a long time.
When I was younger, I had my whole life laid out in my head. At 25, I expected to have a stable job, an apartment, a boyfriend. That all did not happen and I’m starting to truly believe there is a reason for all this. Do I really want to get married at 25, working a dead-end job? No, I don’t. Dear God, I don’t. Especially the dead-end job part.
I have this post-it taped to my desk in my London accommodation that says, “The thing is not to worry. Good things take time”.
Patience is indeed a virtue.
I told myself last year that I wanted to go to London to pursue journalism and I didn’t seriously pursue it until life happened. I’m upset that it took heartbreak for me to finally make the moves I always wanted to make. Granted, I’m still a mess over that, but like one of my good friends in London said, I am still managing to look out for my best interests and future, even though I clearly haven’t moved on in the other department. Surely, it’s a good thing, but I don’t know how my mental health is handling it all. C’est la vie, I guess. Time heals all wounds. [Insert all the cliches and moving on quotes here]
25 is going to be a pretty fantastic year. I know I liberally say, “20XX is going to be the best year of my life and will trump the previous year”, but I truly have a feeling some incredible things are going to happen this year. I know, it’s a tad cheesy and too optimistic….but fuck it, if optimism keeps me sane and happy, then so be it 🙂
To another great year of living, loving and breathing.