In a little over a month, I will turn 24.
Not gonna lie, I am freaking out a little bit. Or a lot. Whatever.
When I was younger, I thought 24 was the golden age. At 24, I would be successful, happy, and have it all figured out. Wasn’t I naive?!
According to my younger, idealistic self, at 24 I would be almost done with law school (instead of assistant lawyers). I would be happily living with my boyfriend (woohoo, got that one!) And I would be on my way to getting engaged, but definitely engaged before 25. (I have no idea on this one.)
And now, I’m doing a job that I do not love, (let’s be honest, I’m doing a job that I barely even like). I’m not in school, even though I long to be. I’m in mountains of debt, thanks to the degree that I’m not expressly using. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, and I am far from having it all figured out.
I barely even acknowledged being 23 and that year of my life is almost over. Seriously, one time I had to do math to determine what age I actually was. There was no box to check, or forms to fill out that included my age. If there was, it was just a clump of 19-24. What can I say, I guess I’m still just feelin’ 22. And am not feeling 24…
Life happens. And maybe by the end of my 24th year, I’ll be in a better spot than I feel I’m in now. And of course, I’m sure I’m just being hard on myself, and I’m really better off than I think, but regardless, I’m just not ready to turn 24.
But ready or not, 24 here I come.