On twenty-two

Over the course of the past twelve months I filled up at least five journals with words words words words words, fell in love with jazz, cut bangs into my hair, started school at a real life university, ate my weight in ice-cream (several times), wrote a short story, got a passport, kept four houseplants alive, and never denied myself the love of a burrito.  

My car got stolen and my heart cracked open more times than I can count, but I learned how to position myself so that all of the light could leak in. 

On August 01 I wrote,  

"I'm twenty-two years of stories and experiences squashed into one human body.  Sometimes, I think about what a miracle it is that all of this life fits into my small frame. I'm learning how to be honest with myself about everything that I am and all that I am feeling. I'm learning how to let myself exist in full capacity without fear of being too much. "

22 will forever be the year that bravery made its home inside of my bones. 

I'm finally on the other side of things. The grass is greener, and I get to wear a gold crown. 

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