Last night I was wide awake. It wasn’t that I was anxious, or nervous, or sad, I was just the opposite. I came to a realization that I have really grown up. Do I still act like a weirdo and have moments of immaturity? Absolutely. I’m still in college after all… ( not that being a nuisance and bothering my dad for attention will ever end) but I have noticed that I feel like a real adult. A real woman. Woah.
I actually wrote about this last night. In a REAL JOURNAL. I almost never actually write things down anymore, especially because I love my blog and sharing my thoughts with the world. I think it’s amazing that we have the technology to do that and in an instant, our thoughts can become a work of art. But writing didn’t start like that, so it’s important that we recognize the therapeutic art of physically putting pen to paper. So I wrote and wrote and wrote last night until my eyes became weights on my freshly-washed face. I wrote until my hand cramped up and my wired brain was able to simmer, and my head melted into the pillow. It felt so natural, like I was writing in my high school journal again. No matter how open of a book I am, sometimes it’s nice to just keep some words of my own.
I’m not really sure what has caused this drastic change in mindset that has made me feel like I actually have a relevant voice in this world. That I am a real adult. But it has caused me to also think about who I am as a person. I finally feel as though I am growing into my skin and feeling comfortable in it. I don’t mean that I don’t get physically self-conscious or that I don’t doubt myself, but I really have this newly found confidence because I am realizing that I am who I am for a reason. I think it’s so important to love the person who you are becoming (and I would say this even to a 95 year old, because no matter how old we are there is so much to do and learn). My personal belief is that our soul is a crafted combination of our DNA and how we are shaped from other people and our own endeavors, so it is a beautiful thing to be able to absorb everything you can while you can, and leave behind something of meaning. That’s why I like to write… and I even wrote about this last night. It is really cool that even when I die (hopefully a longggg time from now), I will have left behind a piece of who I am. I have allowed myself to pour out my brain in a therapeutic way, in a way where I am able to make sense of what goes on in my head while entertaining and teaching others along the way. The thought in my brain –> putting it in words –> creating the combination of it all is what writing is. The physical part of it, the work of art, the legend that I will leave behind through my writing. It gives me purpose.
So while every piece of my writing is different, I think this piece is especially unique because it doesn’t really have one particular theme. It is just a realization of a few things. I have acknowledged that growing up is tough, but I don’t think we should dread it at all. I think we should be excited that there is magic in the fact that we never know what will happen tomorrow, or even in the next minute. Each fleeting moment that passes by has a purpose in shaping who we are and what we will become, which is terrifying yet also incredibly exhilarating. It is part of the reason that I love the feeling of nostalgia and also why it makes me so sad at the same time: because we have these realizations that we will never relive the same moment twice, even when they have impacted us.
I was born an old soul and I will die an old soul (an old soul that still likes to dance like a crazy person and ~probably~ has the loudest laugh in the room), but I never really felt like an adult until now. I think the misconception about going to college is that you’ll automatically become more independent, mature and knowledgeable, and that really isn’t the case. You have to really live your life, then let your life become alive in you.