Yesterday was my 22nd birthday.
Another magical year wiser.
But I must admit that I think there’s something special about being a twenty-something.
I became a twenty-something two years ago after my comfortable (but sometimes turbulent) teenage years. Still, I have plenty of teenage awkwardness, creativeness and weirdness in my body to keep offering the world some of my shiny sparks.
But yesterday, for some reason, in a moment, I was lost in thought. Like I was having a sort of twenty-something syndrome. (Still not quite sure if this is/was a curse or a blessing though) Everybody keeps asking me what my plans are for the future. It is freaking me out. I don’t like to look too much forward, like a fortune-teller. I know what I want and I like my life, living it from day-to-day. Not a lot of plans that decide how my future is going to be like, but a lot of last-minute joys and tons of surprises instead.
Face it: this is the 10-year life span where my options are (almost) limitless. Where I will have the most opportunity to travel. Where I will look my very best. Where the decisions I make won’t weigh as heavily as my future choices might will. I have no real obligations. I don’t live with or even have a boyfriend, so I won’t have to consider anyone else as a higher priority than myself. (But happiness is only real when shared, no?) Nothing is keeping me in Ghent other than the fact that I love this city with all my heart. If I wanted to, I could live abroad again for a certain period, without any concrete plans and meanwhile experiencing a new world and culture I’ve never witnessed before.
But then again, I find myself lost in thoughts. Like yesterday. I have no idea yet what my goal is. Or even if I have one. I don’t manage to find an answer on some questions. But I know I will always have a small guess. And when I think of it, I am sure I will land up where I am meant to be. Even if that is close or far away, alone or with somebody else.
I’m living.
I’m learning.
I’m loving.
I’m twenty-something,
and I love it.
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