To 22, to 23
I said last year that this year of living felt like it would be different. I turned 21 just after leaving NYU and on this day last year, said that 21 was the hardest year of my life and that I felt a renewal coming with 22.
I was wrong.
22 hurt far worse than 21 did but one striking difference was that I understood growing pains. I understood messing up, feeling lost, getting Hope then having it snatched away from you. I understood losing a best friend, I understood being in love but trying to move on.
To 22, I asked you to be kind. You weren’t…but I’m better for it.
To 23, I never thought I’d get this far. Here’s to hoping you’re a season of settlement, of clarity, of living my life for myself. Of money and intent and prosperity.