It was my birthday last week. I turned 24. Really, it’s not so bad. I can say with a fair amount of certainty, that I am wiser than I was last year.
I have learned a lot in this past one year. About living without family, living all by myself. Living with roommates and pseudo-living with friends. I have made some amazing ones there. I have discovered things about myself that I never knew I was capable of. And that’s not necessarily a good thing either.
I have learned the importance of companionship. And how it is critical to be amongst people after your own heart. I have become less of a cynic (I frankly don’t see why they are proud of their cynicism). I have learned to open up. I have learned to be more independent. And less so too.
I have discovered how much people matter to me. And how much I matter to them. Or not. I have learned that being alone is not so bad. Sometimes. I have discovered that there’s a difference between people being there for you when you need them and people being friends.
I have learned that some friendships simply can’t be salvaged. And some will never reach a point where they need to be salvaged. And some can just never be. People are never good or bad. They’re only what you make them out to be.
I have learned how much I am like my Mom. Without ever knowing it. I’m glad.
But I don’t want to grow up. Not yet. Not just yet.