Last week, I turned thirty-three. I wish I could sing Taylor Swift's 22 at the top of my lungs and even though I could change the numbers and it would still rhyme (I'm kinda desperate, here), I have mixed feelings about my age. I will try to describe how it feels.
Thirty-three.
I want to say yes to everything that broadens my horizon. Most time, I feel like there's so much to see and do, with too little time left in the world. Yet sometimes, I’m left with too little options to choose. I feel I am at my bravest most days, but some days it feels like I'm getting closer to my expiration date.
Thirty-three.
I'm stepping into the unknown and it's up to my lame self-control to navigate my life. Sometimes I'm still questioning if I have made the best decisions and wondering if my actions and words come from good faith.
Thirty-three.
I gave up trying to be perfect. I now could look in the mirror and see I am so much beyond my skin freckles and wrinkles. I don't wanna miss the best parts of this life because I'm tied down by my own insecurities. I'm not forever. No one is. I'm not trying to reinvent myself. I want to trust my instincts and see what happens.
I'm ready and I'm not.
I'm learning that I can be both.
