So, I haven’t graduated college. I’m not engaged and I still live with my mother. But I have a killer sense of humor, a resilience that could challenge any post-apocalypse roach you may encounter, and an absurd sense of innocence I just can’t seem to shake.
My insecurities keep me youthful. As a result, I’m approaching life much more nonchalantly. The once oh-so-comforting chalk outlines of my “right path” have been smudged and faded over the years by the unexpected realities that keep this daydream in check.
Keep things simple: stay away from “maybes”, There’s nothing but “hope” there. Hope’s a Halloween word–tricks and treats included–a false “yes” promise, never what it appears to be.
Track your major losses:
1) It’s going to be two years since I’ve heard from my father: two years, 730 days, 1,051,200 minutes since I talked to my once-was best friend.
2) It’ been a year and three months since Devin killed himself: 657, 435.958 minutes since he breathed, four years since I saw him (2,102,400 minutes).
It doesn’t seem like much, but that because we need to learn to value 30 seconds a bit more–hold a plank for 30 seconds then get back to me.
I’m growing. I’m scared. But I’m here.
deep breath
Let’s do this getting-older thing!
DoWriteWell 