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Turning 19 was... A bit strange. I always feel like 19 is such an odd age. Even I was hesitant about celebrating. It's like... You're not in that twenty area yet, but you're too old to act like you're in your sixteen, living fearlessly and screaming "YOLO" on the top of your lungs. You're too old to be living in crop tops and short shorts, putting flowers on your heads and losing your voice to The Cure's Love Song. Even some musicians hitting the charts are almost as old as you are. Even Dora is all grown up now. You have bigger responsibilities and a bunch more expectation to pay up. Your past is adding up. I knew I'm always going to be nervous about turning this 'old'. To be quite honest, some people still feels super duper young in their 30s... It's kinda ironic that I feel like 'this is it' for me.
I was always a planner. Ask me what will I be in 5 to 10 years and I will answer it very clearly, very quickly, without hesitation, and it is incredibly detail-oriented, down to the brand of the shoes and the bags I'm wearing. Very optimistic. I think of every single decision I made, what's the long-term impact, what's in it for me in the long run. I am very boring. You won't see me jumping off a cliff on a single rope bounding my ankles, it's too risky. You will see me exhausting myself on my job, though. I always knew I need that 'safety net' protecting me 24/7, I need a plan B for my plan B. My risk is your average Joe. I count my mistakes. I think of my mistakes. I regret, sometimes way too much than I should.
My wish for this year is that I let go. To be less perfectionist, to stop tiring myself thinking which shade of pink my best friend prefers. I want to be young, I want to make a huge load of mistakes and not feel too sorry about it. To embrace the smeared eyeliner and the unsaid I love you-s, to accept that a 'D' does happen once in a while... That it's worth the laugh. It's okay to cry, to disappoint and be disappointed. It's funny because it was never about other people. It was always me, limiting myself.
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