When I close my eyes and let my body sink into the springs of the pull out couch, all I can hear is the distant cheer of games being played downstairs, the gentle hum of those already sleeping, and the crashing of waves just outside my window. Ever since I can remember, I've struggled to keep a smile on my face as the hours of my birthday go by. I have often told myself that this makes me a bad person. That my inability to be fully in the present during this 24 hour period, laughing, smiling, and loving all that it means to reach a new age, era, and time in my life, makes me selfish and ungrateful.
Not true, and if you too ever tell yourself that you are either of these two things, stop. Don't you dare think of yourself as a burden, being less than, or someone other than what you, or others, think you should be.
Now that I think about it, it's been awhile since I've written here, or even on Instagram. It could be that the weight of turning 25 is weighing heavy on me, or that I am simply in a creative funk, but there is this nagging feeling telling me that something else is churning up my core. After all, I think I quite suit being in my mid twenties. And sure, my creativity flows come and go, but amidst the lulls, there is always room to share my voice.