21.

As I lie here in my bed, slightly hungover and both rifling through music to put on a playlist and watching episodes of Firefly from 2002, I come to the realisation that in a brief hour and fifteen minutes, I will be 21 years old. Has anything about today encapsulated what has so-far been my early twenties? Has today been a fitting and well-rounded step into future days as a 21 year old? Today I ate a stack of food in bed whilst in a mildly hungover state and watched TV shows that are over a decade old. The answer? Probably not.

21 in my family is supposed to be this remarkable age where you suddenly flourish with maturity and wisdom, and when I look back at all the 21sts I've attended throughout the years, everybody always seemed so grown-up, and while not wise to the ways of the world, per se, definitely wise enough to put myself at whatever age I was, to shame. 21 is the first big party you have - and I've never had a big party. I've never celebrated my birthdays in any particularly extravagant fashion, because I've never been allowed to. 21 is "a big birthday", and I won't see another "big birthday" until I'm 30.

What have I achieved and accomplished this year? Moreover, what have I learned?

I would say the most apt answer is, well, I've learned how very much I do not know at all.

I've learned that I'm too young to make bold statements about myself, because I'm forever changing. I've realised that the things I say and do not need to purposefully define me, nor do I need to explain myself every three seconds regarding something I've said and done in relation to something I'm saying or doing; I've learned to edit, to rewrite. I've learned that cutting out toxic relationships does not mean wiping slates and friendships entirely clean, eradicated with efficiency like windex to wine stains; I've learned that no matter what you do, there are always going to be people in your life in some capacity that have hurt you - but despite whether they're in the same city, street, or even in the same room, they do not control you, nor can they hurt you again or take a hold of you, unless you let them, and if you know to let them brush past you with ease like perfect strangers akin to a passing breeze, then that is all they will ever be.

I've learned that it's possible to move on from being badly hurt, despite how even as your life changes course over and over again, the pain still lurks in the back of your mind - and I've learned that to still feel lingering woes and grudges from severe betrayals is, too, okay, so long as you do not let those hatreds stagnate within you.

I've learned that people are wrong when they make sweeping statements like "Those people are not your friends"- because statements like those imply that you are either a stranger or a friend to someone with no in-between, and it insinuates that relationships are formed with the same boring formula over and over again. This isn't true at all. I've learned that I can meet people in all different capacities - in the street, in bars, in clubs, on holiday, on the internet - and those people can be just as part of my life, and I can feel just as strongly for them, as I could a close friend I've known for years. Because it is not about how long you have known a person, or how you met a person, but about how that person makes you feel.

I've gained a sense of community in my workplace. I've felt included, comfortable, and at ease in an environment that I might previously have felt anxious about. I've settled. I've learned the value of productivity, of doing at least some of the hard yards - and while I will never have a Bugati or a Maserati, I have learned to appreciate myself, to feel confident in myself, and I have felt honest pride at the notion that a person I hold in high esteem might seriously appreciate myself and my work.

I've met people that I am confident I will know for years to come - because I've realised how very young I am; how painfully inexperienced, and how you don't need to rush around and question your connections with every second person, because you have years to form relationships and strong bonds.

I've learned that, as much as my sometimes-crippling anxieties might fool me into thinking otherwise, my life will not end tomorrow, and there is no need to run blind into the night pursuing goals that might not be achieved for years - as long as I'm happy, content with the company that I keep, I can take a moment to smell the breeze, to note the industrialised beauty of the city, and that's okay. I've learned that every mistake, lie or hurt can be forgiven - and sometimes, those dramas can transform themselves into opportunities.

I've learned that what I do is just as valuable as what you do, and just because I work at night does not make me "a party girl" - because with my job comes that sense of community, and there is merit in its aims, even though you might not see it. I have learned not to apologise for myself - because I am fucking awesome, despite being weird as fuck, and no pretentious fuckwad side-eyeing me for lame commentary can knock me down. I have learned that a fantastic mind is more valuable than a Dior shirt, and honest affection without expectation of reciprocation is more precious than gold. I have learned that one beautiful person who radiates positive energies is more valuable than ten people with negative world-views - even if the hippy-esque notion of 'positive energies' might make me nauseous, it's true.

I have learned that a big night out won't kill me, and I have learned to thank my anxiety for making me cautious - for making me smart.

Lastly, I've learned that there's nothing wrong with writing sappy-as-shit little pieces like this about all of the wonderful things I've learned in the past year, because while putting away that yardstick I use to measure my life might be in my best interest; while keeping score or formulating an image of myself might be the fast lane towards denying reality; sometimes you need to remind yourself that you're doing alright.

Even if you're lounging around in bed for days after the hangover has faded, uncertain of what you're doing or even if you'll ever get to do the things you form in your mind - even if you're terrified that in a flash you're going to wake up at 30, the next "big birthday", having achieved very few of the things you put your mind to once upon a time - just relax. Breathe. You're not going to die, and you're not going to fail. You're - I'm - still so young, despite being twenty-one, and it's amazing once you figure out that everything is forever just getting started.