A letter to my age: twenty-five
Dear twenty-five, what the fuck.
As a young girl I looked forward to meeting you. I expected you would have finished an impeccable four years at school, and be starting a dream career. You would be confident, bold, vivacious, the life of the party. Yet I get the feeling now that our time together is coming to a close that you have no idea what you are fucking doing.
You haven’t even finished a degree because nothing seems to satisfy you. You have not written that book that I swore you would have finished by now, and on top of it you are exhausted by nine.
I think that maybe you oversold yourself to a naive child and I encourage you to put down your pride and admit you are lost. You secretly feel that all the other twenty-fives are surpassing you. After all, what have you done?
OK maybe I can cut you some slack. You taught me that maybe my purpose isn’t to seek validation through a career but to live, to simply be twenty-five. You have also informed me (although I expected you to figure our life out by now) that you are still very young and longing to grow. You are about to introduce me to twenty-six and you humbled me. You tell me twenty-six is a time to live, learn, and be.
You took out all my ideas of our timeline with one single blow. You taught me that I am one of my greatest friends. You took everything we thought to be true and murdered it. You freed me from our cage of overwhelming expectations. You started the hard work to prep us for whats next. I will always have you twenty-five to thank for that.
I guess we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing but at least we know that we are growing.
I am going to look back on our time together for years to come. Twenty-five helped me find myself. So as our year comes to a close I wish you only the best twenty-five.
Sincerely, me
