wow, i can’t believe it. twenty. my second decade. how did i even get here? growing up, i couldn’t picture eighteen, let alone twenty. sometimes i still feel like that kid who used to stare out the window at night, wondering when life would finally start… but now i’m starting to feel like maybe it already did. maybe it’s been happening this whole time, quietly, in the background, while i was too busy trying to figure out who i was supposed to be.
it’s strange to look back and realize i never thought i’d make it here. not because i didn’t want to, but because i truly couldn’t see it for myself. the world around me made me believe there wasn’t space for someone like me. i know, that sounds cliché, maybe even a little tacky, but at the same time it felt real. it was the kind of loneliness that seeps into your bones before you even understand what it means. i thought being different meant i didn’t belong. i used to shrink myself so small that i almost disappeared. but somehow, i didn’t. i stayed. i grew.
now i feel lighter, freer. it’s like the universe finally took a deep breath for me and said, okay, you can live now. i feel like i’ve been handed this invisible permission slip to take up space, to just be. that old shell of a boy doesn’t live here anymore. i’ve grown into someone i’m proud of. i’m not trying to prove i’m better than anyone, i just know now that i’m enough. that’s everything i used to wish someone would tell me.
it’s funny, i used to be obsessed with setting goals, never intentions. i always wanted things i could measure, like grades, jobs, milestones. but never peace, never energy. there were always signs, little moments of alignment, but nothing that ever truly stopped me in my tracks until recently, when a friend, someone with this soft and grounding energy, did a reading for me. her words felt like sunlight through a window. she reminded me that what’s meant for me will always find me, that i don’t have to chase what’s already written in the stars.
and maybe that’s the biggest lesson of all… i’m done chasing what isn’t meant for me, especially people who don’t know themselves. i’ve done that before, i’ve poured love into places that couldn’t hold it. i used to think if i tried harder, if i made myself smaller or sweeter, someone would finally stay. but i’ve learned that love without grounding isn’t love at all. it’s confusion dressed as connection. and i’ve spent enough time mistaking chaos for care.
she helped me plant four little seeds, intentions i want to carry into this twenty something chapter. first, to bring love into the situation. to create space where i can give love and appreciation to others, the way i always wished someone had given it to me. sometimes all i needed was a hug or a quiet “you’ll be okay,” and now i want to be that person for someone else.
then, a time for healing. i’m finally learning to sit with myself, to look at my past with softness instead of shame. i’m slowly beginning to heal, and maybe for the first time, i’m not rushing it. work through your fears, that one hit hard. fear has always been my shadow, but maybe fear isn’t something to conquer, maybe it’s something to understand. and finally, the answers you need are coming. that card felt the most mysterious, but maybe that’s the point. maybe it’s about patience, about trusting that clarity will come when i’m ready for it.
sometimes i think about the things i’ve written before the late-night posts where i tried to convince myself i was fine, where i mistook survival for strength. maybe those versions of me needed to speak first, so this one could finally listen. because now, it feels different. quieter. softer. maybe this is what growing up feels like, not checking boxes or chasing milestones, but feeling the small shifts inside yourself. learning to love your own company. realizing that peace isn’t something you find, it’s something you create. maybe this is what it means to step into yourself, quietly, fully, unapologetically.
twenty feels like a soft reset, a slow sunrise, a new beginning in a familiar body. i don’t know exactly where i’m headed, but i know i’m not who i used to be, and maybe that’s the point. maybe growing up isn’t about finding the answers, but learning to live beautifully with the questions.
so here’s to the boy who made it, to the man who’s still becoming, and to every version of me that tried so hard just to stay. and maybe, just maybe, i can’t help but wonder, what if this is only the beginning?
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