Holy shit I am 26. No longer in my early 20’s, no longer allowed to say “Oh I am just young, I didn’t know.” When do you officially grow up? When is it not ok to know something?
It’s funny, because I remember being a very little me and struggling to look over my bathroom counter at my reflection in the mirror, thinking to myself “I wonder what I am going to be like when I am 16” and then being that defiant, angry and insatiably curious 16 year old thinking, “Hmmm, this is so not what I thought 16 was going to feel like, maybe it will all make sense at 21.”
But alas, at 21 I put off self-realization for another 4 years, thinking that 25 was the magic number. Now I am at 26 and I must say that I do believe this whole “magic number of enlightenment and calm” is all a total lie and hoax that I have convinced myself to believe to make everything seem a little more calm and controlled.
I am 26, I love to act, I am getting wrinkles on my forehead, my arms are still not as toned as I would like and I have a small pot belly. I love movies, plays, music, and art and I love to eat ice cream out of the carton.
My mom still has the best smell in the world, and cross legged on the ground is the most comfortable way to eat at a picnic. All things I thought I would “grow out of” when I hit that magical number. Thank god it doesn’t exist!
I love to play and fuck up and be all over the place.
I love feeling forever suprised by my life.
I will always want to learn new things and I will always be afraid of what I don’t know.
So here is to another spin around the sun.
I think it is going to be a good year my friends, a very good year.