This is my last day in my twenties. I’m now making a somewhat rocky transition into 30. Kicking and screaming, as it were. I don’t like not being able to blame sometimes my impetuous and ill-thought out, spur of the moment, juvenile, idiotic and just plain ridiculous decisions on my youth. When you’re 30, you’re old enough to know better. You really are. That stuff’s not cute any more.
Perhaps I’m not giving myself enough credit. I’m 30 (almost), I do know better. I know what I’m doing, I don’t have to worry about making so many mistakes… but I just loved the ability to revel in my ignorance, like a pig in the mud. Those days are now gone…
Why am I so melodramatic right now?
I need to flip the coin and realize that I have lived 29 whole years and it’s been a remarkable journey up until this point. It will continue to be amazing. Even more so.
