twenty-something

finding myself again.

I miss myself sometimes.

It’s like I don’t know who I am. who I was.

I have poor memory, probably cuz I smoke too much weed. I am constantly trying to remember what I was like as a child. What I did. What I liked. What I would talk about.

I want to get to know her.

Am I still that same self? Was I always this way? Maybe one day I’ll ask my parents. Maybe one day I’ll understand.

I am 27 years old. I feel like I know myself but also not really at all. Your 20s are like the childhood of adulthood. and I find myself yearning for my child-self more and more. I want to take a peek into her mind. To learn from her. To remember how it felt. The freedom, the curiosity.

I am 27 years old and so much has changed. My body. My friends. My mind. I grew taller and my hair darkened, I got piercings, tattoos, and stretch marks. Friendships strengthened or grew apart. Some friends even died. My mind once flooded with insecurities and anxieties, has calmed down a bit— rather a flood, perhaps a puddle. Yes, I have changed. But also, maybe I am exactly the same? Being too loud, biting my nails, playing dress up, believing in magic.

I am 27 years old. And I am 4 years old and 8 years old and 11 years old and 13 years old and 17 years old and 19 years old and 23 years old. Each year, a different version of myself, all piled on top of each other. I am every year I have ever lived.

I am 27 years old and I know loss and love and grief and joy and everything in between. I know everything and nothing.

There is a picture of 5 year old me, hung next to my dresser. I look at her every morning as I get ready for the day. I recognize the freckles on her nose, the dimples on her cheeks, the same freckles and dimples that decorate my face today. It is hard for me to remember what it was like to be me at that young age. I almost grieve these parts of me, memories lost to make room for more. I wonder what was important to me. What I cared about. What I dreamed. If I’ve lost any pieces of me. And how can I get them back. I look at this picture, 27 year old me looking at 5 year old me. I wonder if I will do this in another 20 years with a picture of me now. Will I always be trying to understand my past self?

In the mirror, I inspect myself. My fingers gliding over my face, searching for an imperfection to pick at. They try to smooth over my young wrinkles in the space between my brows. I wonder if I should cut bangs again, to hide these lines in my skin. I inspect my hairline, wondering when my first grey will make an appearance. Locking eyes with myself in the mirror, taking me out of my trance, I try to remind myself what a blessing it is to be able to grow older. To age. Wrinkles and all.

I saw my Nana a month or so ago. We got lunch. Sitting across from her, I couldn’t stop looking at her. Her face worn with time, each wrinkle a memory. And her eyes, just like my mother’s, just like my sister’s, just like mine. I almost wanted to cry.

I am 27 years old and I want to be 30 already. My husband laughs at this desire, as he is already 31. But I mean it. The decade of your twenties feels so stupid. You know absolutely nothing! And this is supposed to be the “glory days”?! I mean, I’ve had fun in my twenties. I’ve gone to parties and traveled to far away places and done drugs and kissed the wrong person and stayed up way too late. I’ve danced with strangers and smoked too many cigarettes and fallen in love. I’ve made plenty of mistakes and have plenty more to go. I think being 27 is like being 9 years old. Almost a “big kid”. Almost to that new decade. Its weird to put it into perspective. Only being alive for two decades and some change. How silly and young. How dare anyone think you wither away after 25, let alone 27. At 27 you are only just getting started. I am only just getting started. I am only a baby. I still want to play!

Maybe this is what your late twenties are for. Going back to yourself. Rediscovering the music you were embarrassed to listen to in middle school, even though you had never connected to anything more. Dressing up in an outfit that might not make the most sense but makes you feel like a princess. Learning to play again.

I am 27 years old. I am old and I am young. And I know everything and nothing.