Today I turn 22. It feels like ages ago when I could still call myself a teen. Now I'm curled up in my sheets taking in all the beauty and magic of the fairy lights that hang above me with a mug (yes, mug) of wine. Classy huh. It's 2:55am and I'm reflecting on my 22 years of life. Somehow my mind seems to enjoy being intellectual in the wee hours of the morning. I've made a promise to myself at 12:00am earlier today, that turning 22 is gonna be MY year. And by that, I mean focusing on improving and appreciating myself. I have not been fair to myself the past few years. The constant doubting and hating on oneself was awful and uncalled for. All these years, I grew up comparing myself to others and feeling inferior to strangers. Why? I look back at all the foolish attempts of self-doubting, and I'm still left unanswered. But 22 means no more self-doubting, but a journey where I begin to love and appreciate myself. 22, is a year where I will care for myself before others, worry about things that matter, cause trivial things are not worth my time. It's about self improving and figuring out my future. 2015 marks the final year of university and I have absolutely no idea what comes after. I've always admired those who seem to have their entire future neatly crafted out. How big of a dream or ambition must one have to be so sure of the unknown? As a young girl, my ambitions depended on my mood. Even today, I can't seem to stay fix on one career path. By the end of 2015, I
Here's to being 22 and feeling old as fuck.
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