In one month, I’m going to be twenty-two. In one month and one week, I’m going to be a graduate. Knowing that I only have one more month of this “magic” age makes me think about the last twelve months and do a quick summery;
too many heartbreaks
too many tearful goodbyes
too many airports
too many neurotically sleepless nights
too much neurosis. Period.
Just enough wine
way too many car accidents, stiches, broken bones and damaged livers
too many blood tests, hospital stays and panic attacks
just the right number of new dresses
using/hearing the phrase “but it’s complicated” too many times
This was the year that kicked the wind out of me, the year that messed with my head the most. It was the year that everything changed, the year I discovered ‘Sex and the City’, and French 75s. It was the year my plans changed 456, 354 times, the year I had the best job I’ve had so far (although I didn’t get paid for it). It was the year that screwed me over the most, and yet it was still the best.
It started somewhere between Manhattans Upper East Side, and the side of a road in New Jersey and three in the morning. It’ll end in Adelaide. Somehow, neither the beginning nor the end of twenty one seems to matter, but all the crap in between that made it worth it, or made me lose my mind – I don’t know which yet, but I still have one month to decide.
So, pre-emptively raise a glass to twenty-one, the craziest year of my life so far, and hope that twenty-two will kick twenty-one’s ass!!!