7. XXX

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Thirty.

I’m supposed to have it all figured out by now. But all I seem to have figured out is how to sardonically laugh as my life continues to disappoint. Looking at my journal entries ten years ago I can’t help but be amused at the naive optimism I had. All the potential I had when I was twenty is all gone now (“I drank it away” – Solange, although my Grade 12 Biology teacher said those words first, to me).

None of the things that I said will happen before I turn thirty happened.

My career doesn’t really exist.

My love life is a tragic comedy.

Most of my friendships are dead or dying, and etc.

Nothing in my twenties worked out and everything worked out just fine at the same damn time, I don’t know how to explain it with words but I’ll try.

I’m thirty and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. I’m thirty and I failed to achieve most of the goals I set for myself when I was twenty and that’s okay. I’m a whole different person that I was when I was twenty and I’m low-key glad that most of my plans failed, my trajectory is not tied to the vision I had of myself when I was twenty. I’m also low-key glad that I still don’t know what I want to do with my life, I still have time to figure that out. This feels like freedom to me. My only wish is that I don’t waste this “freedom” like I wasted my potential in my twenties.

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