Whenever I see someone celebrate their 22nd birthday, there is almost always a reference about Taylor Swift’s song of the same name.
I just turned 22 yesterday, and my birthdays are usually anticlimactic. It’s usually a regular, ho-hum day, and I remember spending my birthdays back in high school studying for my periodical exams. Last year, I remember spending my birthday at my internship. As far as I can remember, I was supposed to have a bunch of training sessions, but ended up listening to a series of talks for the whole day. At that time, I thought I was getting my shit together. I thought I was going to finally going to have that moment where I “stepped up” and got into a ~~*normal*~~ career, where I am supposed to earn good money and be the source of pride for my family (at least in my dad’s side of the family), because I had all these privileges given to me.
My life as a 21-year old was filled with lots of ups and downs. Earlier this year, I went through a spiral. Right now, I am still in the process of recovery, and I am doing my best to pick up the pieces and start anew. I am going after my dream as a writer, I have a solid group of friends, I have a decent relationship with my family, and I am picking up new interests, such as cooking.
This year, I am now 22 years old. My birthday celebration was something right up my alley. I spent it with Gilbi, and we checked out makeup, books, and lures on Pokemon Go. It was a fairly interesting day, and it was the birthday I had in years where I didn’t really think about school or anything. At this point, I still haven’t experienced that instantaneous moment where I have all my life figured out, but it doesn’t have to be that way, right? What matters is that I am open to the possibilities that life has to offer, and that’s perfectly okay.