Intros will never be my strong suit
I promise you, whoever is even going to read this and stick around for the rest to come: my intros will always be corny. Until, possibly, one day I get better at it. probably not lol. anyway,
I’m starting this blog to figure out what I lost a while back. just previously, I waved good-bye to the excess curiosity of my teenage years i had left. I’m 21, about to approach my 22nd year. What? Yeah, 22. I thought I just turned 21, too.
21 doesn’t even count or feel like being in your twenties.
Turning 21 and then realizing it ends is like winning Miss America or Miss Universe because of how you’re paraded until they find someone younger; better.
21 is the first year you realize people are younger than you. Not that you never noticed it before, but now here you are at a Buffalo Wild Wings on a Saturday night surrounded by encounters that seem all too familiar from a not so distant past. And you think, “Why do they look so young? Why are there so many here? How are they so unaware of themselves or surroundings?” These situations they speak of seem so dismal until it hits you all at once: you used to do the exact same thing. You used to go anywhere, somewhere to feel something in your life, talk about nothing really except to purposely try and make some sort of importance out of yourself at two a.m., sluggish. Like you wanted the moon’s approval and for her to notice you.
I wanted too much for my 21st year. I wanted to continue rising because there was never a time, prior to this one, where I just stopped working-in every sense of the word. I was used to having everything laid out in front of me and I knew how to play that game. I knew what I needed to score, what to say to whom, what to think and pretend to believe. Yeah. By the age of 19-20 I was a champion of that Child’s Play.
But 21 was different. It had every unimaginable thing you could expect. This was no longer an endless space. Now, it’s an uninviting forest. A forest that denies the sun from it’s own roots at times.
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Being 21 is intoxicating. It makes everything deeper yet.
What I’ve learned from being 21, while I can still say that I am, as I turn 22 in 15 days and 20 hours and 42 minutes, is that your fuck-up’s will only continue to happen. Stop being self-centered. No more putting off. Listen to your thoughts more often. Explore the world-any world, 2-D or 3-D. Open your eyes. Love; love more. Care for yourself now, while you can. Let others care for you. Grow. Water.
