Twenty-five

I will readily admit, I have always thought these kinds of posts dorky (I still do), but I scribbled this in my diary this morning and I have no shame in posting it here. Part of why I decided to write it is realised that my twenty-fourth year in this world did consume too many diary pages than any other year of my life. I literally had to buy a second diary notebook to pour my heart out.

At 12:00AM, I am turning twenty-five.

It hit me that a few weeks back, I imagined this day so differently. But also, life doesn’t care about my plans. My birthday will come so soon and I will be waiting for this one text that’s probably not going to come. I shouldn’t be surprised because my life at twenty went so fast and was batshit crazy that I hardly had time to acknowledge what I have accomplished and learnt. Hours before it ends, it is time to do that.

The day I turned twenty-four, I was packing my suitcase to take off somewhere not knowing that it would be the first of many other suitcases of trips, lessons and possibilities. At twenty-four, I have learnt that progress will always cost me something; an opportunity, a friend or even a good sleep. I learnt a handful of things including that knowing them still means that I still no knowing. But most importantly. I learnt parts about myself I didn’t know they even existed. At twenty-four, I did admirable things that I am proud of, but also I did many terrible things that I have to carry around.

This year, I met so many interesting people that I am frequently punishing myself for forgetting their names. I took two steps forward to speak up when things did not feel right, and I took a step back when I realised I had to compromise. I had my first public speaking experience, that was followed by many others. I presented and shared my work with people.

I have made amazing friendships and I sabotaged some. I fell in love. And I learnt that there are many ways to love someone and one of them is leaving. I had more butterflies in my stomach than I could count then I had my heartbroken. I didn’t shy away from admitting things and asked people for their support and advice. I fixed a person. I destroyed two. I apologised and meant it, and I have apologised while I didn’t. I found my favourite city then visited it again with one of my closest friends who made it see it with their eyes. I selfishly think I see it better. I left a lover and a friend behind and I don’t know how to make it right. I dodged all my friends’ weddings but also felt so happy for them.

I made more memes than I can count and I listened to so much music than my nerves can take. I saw two of my favourite artists live, only two days before I learned that I might lose my hearing in my thirties. Then I listened to more music.

I met one of my celebrity crushes in New York only to realise that saying “never meet your heroes” is goddamn true. I also met Simone Fattal and I do think she is one of the most charming women I have ever met. I have set my own boundaries and confidently asked people to respect them. I stopped picking up calls or open voice messages. If someone doesn’t have the time to text, well they may fuck off. I bought stacks of books and read 73 of them. I visited many museums and realised that Picasso is bloody overrated. I watched my favourite movie for the 16th time as if it is a song on repeat.

I gave up on myself then got out of bed the next morning like nothing had happened. I gave politics another chance but then saw the finest minds crumble. I had goosebumps seeing my people speak up again but watched them in silence like a ruthless coward.

I have grown to realise that I wasted so much time trying to fit in. I wasted so much time trying to be somebody or be with somebody. But I also want to change that. At twenty-five, I am going to learn to accept losing. Losing myself and losing you. I have made no plans for tomorrow but I am going to celebrate being different, honest and loving. And if I have to be one thing this year, I will be more kind.