How Netflix feels about me

23

I’m writing this with maybeee… half an hour until I turn 23.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am not 17.

Sorry for the confusion.

As I sit in my dimly lit room that has acquired a weird, mystery smell

with the piles of clothing that I still have trouble determining dirty or clean—

I’m thinking,

I probably should have put my clothes away when I did laundry last week

and how I shouldn’t have my window open and fan on when the AC is running.

And how I should probably start saving for adult things

like retirement

and those false teeth I’m going to need

since I didn’t take tooth retention very seriously.

But really,

I learned a lot of wonderful things this past year of my life.

I’ve learned things like…

• What real friends are
• How to spiral downward at a consistent, frightening speed
• How to always have a third thing prepared when listing

I also learned valuable lessons involving tequila

And that it causes black outs…

And I have adventures that I don’t remember consenting to

when, in all actuality, I probably initiated them.

Because I’m just that brilliant under the influence of a gallon of mixed-proof alcohol

that I, again — brilliantly, felt was a healthy way to deal with the grief.

I learned lessons in being crazy — publicly!

and being almost completely delusional

in a functional and misleading way.

I learned what a bad idea it is to ignore emotional responses to problems or changes and to not suffocate feelings in an attempt to permanently quell them.

I learned dating/casually seeing someone/talking to/interacting with any man after a 3 year on-and-off nightmare results in further nightmare-ing in new, shiny forms that I never knew could ever exist that just project my insecurities onto every wall

in any room

I inhabit.

Oh yeah folks, just so you know,

puberty lightening actually does, in fact, strike twice.

Yet another nightmare to look forward to, kids.

Hormones change. 

Seriously. 

That’s why the suicide rate is so high in young adults.

Speaking of suicide,

I’m 23 now.

I have successfully skirted almost every curse placed on the women in my family.

Almost.

I’ve got a good feeling about this year, though.

So.

May this year be free of self-sabotage and crippling insecurity.

May the crisper drawers hold vegetables instead of beer and 5 different cheeses,

and may I be present in

every

single

moment.

Here’s to more learning.

Yours,

-Kiera