I’m twenty years old. I’m twenty and I have never traveled outside of the country. I’ve never jumped head first into a new culture, a new atmosphere, holding nothing back and intrinsically riding the waves a different way of life, a whole new philosophy. I’ve never confessed my love or raised my voice or truly given an opinion. I’ve never given my all or taken the reigns of my life and forcing myself through an obstacle, past an obstruction, or into a fantasy. Have I lived?
I have lived. I have learned to ride a bike. I have tried new foods and I have learned to drive and I have made mistakes and I have learned. I’m twenty years old and I have been all alone in this world. I have worked full time and paid rent and bills and gone to school and trucked along, despite the obstacles. I have made goals, attained them, and made new ones. I’ve met people I adore and I have let go of people who are poisonous.
I’m twenty years old and I may not be where I want to be. But I have time. I have life ahead of me. I have a chance to travell the world and I have a chance to voice my opinion and I have a chance to get where I want to be. I have a chance. I’m twenty years old and my life is still a work in progress. My world has yet to be created, and I know that I am author of this book.
I have a hard time telling myself it’s ok to keep dreams alive. I don’t want a boring, repetitive life. I don’t want the usual 9 to 5. I don’t want to hate going to work every day. I don’t want to regret my life choices. I want to earn my struggle. I want to hear no time and time again to make that one yes sound so sweet. I want to be an inspiration to those behind me. I don’t want to give up on life. I want to live.