A little eulogy to my 22nd year.

So I am in the final hours of being 22 years old. My last palindromic age for 11 years. That's literally half of my life at this point.

I'm kind of numb and overwhelmed with feelings at the same.Also I'm really tired from yesterday's hard labour - moving stuff (LIKE WARDROBES) from one house to the other. I have muscle-ache in places I didn't know muscles existed. 

The last year has been a brilliant one, and in so many ways. I loved uni, the change of atmosphere, learning so many things (most of which revolve on how little I know, and the insipidity of 18 year old kids), meeting so many awesome people, and figuring out my life bit by bit. I'm learning to be more proactive, to dream big and take pride and joy in what I'm learning and doing every single day. All in all, 22 has been a great year.

Of course, everything is rosy in hindsight - there were several weeks in which I didn't sleep and could hardly breathe, with assignments and essays and such. But as cliched as it sounds, it's all a part of the journey. Good things are only good because there are bad things with which you can compare them. And who can say no to a bit of adrenaline?

Okay, the pizza's here. I'm going to gorge myself and then regret it, and plan my day for tomorrow. I'm looking forward to hanging out with myself, meandering around and looking at pretty things. At the end of the day, all you are is you, and while other people come and go, you are still you. And that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Peace and love,

S.