A brief note to readers:
This is my first post in some time. It is a personal post, and I don’t expect many of you to finish it. But it is my own choice. My own decision of how to spend the last moments of my twenties, and the first of my thirties. I post it here not so much for you, but for me. Because for me, saying it out loud makes it so much more real. Thank you for all your support. But first! Pics of my twenties for those of you who want something…visual.
I wanted to take this time for us, you and I. There is just enough time, I think, for one more deed, one more musing, one final communication from our twenties. This post is written in that last moment, the twilight between the decade that was and the decade that is dawning. I chose to write it because I have been thinking recently, about us, the old me and the new me, and the me that is. And I think it is quite natural, when all is said and done, to face the question of “What have I done with my time?” or “Has my life been worth something?”
That’s a complex question for us, I don’t have to tell you. And I know that we’ve been caught up recently in what we like to say is “planning for the future”. But of course, we both know what we’re really doing when we are “planning for the future”; we’re judging our past. We’re looking to avoid repeating mistakes already made, or to improve on previous successes. It isn’t even unreasonable to want to be better tomorrow than you were yesterday. But there’s something nasty lurking underneath those plans isn’t there?
So, I’ve decided, me, that the very last act we take in our twenties, and the very first in our thirties will be one of love. Love of self. Because the truth is, we deserve to be loved. And that is such an important change from where we were back at nineteen wasn’t it? Continue reading