Sunday, October 5, 2014

It's really difficult to explain my life in full thoughts lately.
Growing up in the nineties, I was taught by my surroundings that you find a mate, get serious, marry, have babies, and live happily ever after. My parents married after two years of dating at the age of 24, and had kids at age 28, 30, and 32. When my parents divorced at the age of 42, I was a ripe age of twelve, and so confused by the world around me.
I promised myself that I would marry at the same age, and procreate at the same age. I thought it was a way to prove myself to the world. I am such a stubborn human being.
Currently, I am the age my parents were at marriage, I don't know how they did it. My life is changing daily, my feelings are always fluctuating, my brain never on the same idea. How did two people (that have both confided in me the confusion of this age) decide to marry before their main changes in life?
Maybe it's a matter of hindsight being 20/20. Maybe it's the fear and the butterflies telling you to jump.
I never thought I would be (more or less) single at this time of my life. I also never thought I would live this long, laugh this hard, and love vegetables as much as I do.
I have learned life throws weird things at you at every turn, and though this is a boring blog post to read, I needed to get it out. Life doesn't have a rule book or a manual, it's a blank, leather bound book that you have to decorate yourself. Write, paint, draw, cover the pages in tears and candle wax. Get out what you can, because holding it in doesn't get you anywhere. Look back at the pages you've covered, and not just the bright ones. Contemplate your blank pages, but don't number them or start before you're there, it just gets too messy when you try to read the story aloud.
Keep going, because nobody but you can keep making those entries.
Do your best to love the mess.

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