This is me on the train.
This is me, trying to be a real person
I have something like imposter syndrome, the inability to accept that this life, which I have coveted for so long and truly made happen, is my own. It’s all so un-permanent.
This is me, 10 days before my 25th birthday
In which I dig myself out of a pity party and reflect on how much I love my friends.
This is me, 11 days before my 25th birthday.
11 days before my 25th birthday, I contemplate my impending quarter-life crisis and muse on what life means when you're forced to prove your worth via cover letters and job applications.
I come to a conclusion.