It's 2015. The first week of the year is over and I can barely wrap my head around the fact it's a new year and I only have 51 weeks left.
I can remember this time last year so vividly... but that might just have been the stress of it. I started the year as an expectant graduate, counting the days to the ceremony to receive my piece of paper that still lies among a whole pile of others today.
I felt pressure to figure it all out; pressure I had put on myself, it has to be said. I wanted to work for real. I wanted to finally find out what I wanted to do with my life. Hell, alongside all that I was still reeling from the fact I had lived through a whole year and then some of my "grown up" relationship.
The year sped by. Now my graduation, the second anniversary, my grandmother's cancer experiences, my first real job (lasting a month) and my second (that Im grateful I still have)... it's all over and gone.
All I've got are the memories that make me, me. All I've got are tattoos I've gotten along the way, including the two newest from the past year. I've gained weight, an extra hole along my outer ear and few new bugs to last me the rest of my life and an intense love to work.
Here I sit, pulling together work at midnight for the morning back at the office. I mull over whether I should make a list of resolutions, think about how seriously I want to take my dive into vegetarianism and wonder if I am really going to get up at 6 and do some app-guided yoga.
I'm going to be 23 and while that may not seem like much, at my age my mother was married and probably expecting my brother. I'm going to be 23 and while it doesn't feel like much I wonder how much it means to be the first of my secondary school year to make it out of university. I'm going to be 23 and I shake my head at the fact I still havent made it to a papsmear.
2015, you are going to be a rollercoaster. Let's enjoy the ride, shall we?
