Older one more year, newer by the day

I think twenty-three was my favorite year yet. Though I am quite reluctant to let it go, I am excited for twenty-four, albeit still anxious about the merciless passing of time. Last year, my twenty-two-year-old self recounted a list of things that I wished for in my twenty-third year alive. Though I have not achieved or received all that I had desired, there is much that has fulfilled me this past year. With every birthday, I find myself to be (hopefully) a bit wiser, a bit more lively, a bit more comfortable in my own skin. This year was no exception. 

Here is what I have achieved, received, expressed, experienced, and endured as twenty-three. 

• I never got a window facing East. Quite the contrary, actually. My bedroom windows face the West, and though I do not get to see the sunrise through my blinds every morning, I do get to say a quick good evening before she peaks beyond the horizon, which I would argue is just as lovely.

• One of few regrets this past year is that I did not eat as many crunchy green grapes as I would’ve liked. 

• In twenty-three, I indulged in a lot of hot tea and good conversation. As well as drunk, wistful sex. Though I never made it around to going on that midnight walk (which, in retrospect, was a silly prospect for a girl with a consistent early bedtime). 

• I have written more in my twenty-third year than I believe I ever have. From grad school applications, personal essays, and keeping up with my blog, I have successfully overfilled my cup with creative endeavors, learning how to stretch my ideas, flexing a muscle I wish to continue training for the rest of my life. 

• Men Who Hate Women by Laura Bates, Deep Cuts by Holly Brickley, American Rapture by CJ Leede, The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green, Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler, The Conditions of Will by Jessa Hastings, The Emperor of Gladness by Ocean Vuong. Just a couple of five-star, almost six-star life-altering reads from twenty-three that I will carry with me into twenty-four, twenty-five, and well, you get the point. 

• At twenty-three, I fell in love again. I fell hard, unabashed, unashamed, a type of love that tints the world around me in Technicolor. It was unexpected, and at first, extremely terrifying. But I have found a home in another person, someone who never fails to make even the mundane moments a memory I want to keep in my front pocket forever. I have found a warm body and bright soul who keeps me company on Sunday mornings, someone who reminds me of every love confession highlighted in my books. 

• I have extinguished the usage of overhead lighting in my bedroom. I have created an undeniable sanctuary in this little nook in my apartment, curating pieces and colors and lamps and decor that glows with remnants of my personality. In twenty-three, there was nowhere I would rather be than in my room.

• My family has become a constant in my life, more than ever before. Maybe it was because my sister got married, and I suddenly felt this odd void in my life that only my family could fill. I reach out to them more than I have, more than I want, sometimes, and though it comes at the cost of my sanity, I know it will never be something I regret.

Twenty-three, thank you for being gentle with me. Thank you for giving me one of the best years of my life. I can only hope for the same in my twenty-fourth year. This is my wish, along with a couple more. 

Here’s everything I want at 24.

• To continue loving unconditionally. Loving openly, loving my parents, my sister, my friends, both near and far, my boyfriend, my cat, and most importantly, myself. 

• A country, a world built on hope, love, and acceptance. 

• A couple more years living in Berlin, again. Again.

• To see more of the world. To let go of any inhibitions I have with my routine and my schedule, and travel anywhere, everywhere. I want to learn about the world, about different cultures, different people. I desperately want to lift my navel-gazing perspective and truly understand life as it should be lived. 

• To become disgustingly, almost horrifically well-educated.

• A kitten. 

• An unlimited New York magazine subscription. 

• The mid-century modern furniture pieces of my antique and Pinterest dreams. 

• More meals with my parents. More Chinese in my life. 

• To release the pressure of the future from my shoulders. To truly believe that it’s okay to not know where my life is heading, what direction I’m going in, and that a five-year plan is not always necessary. I want to surrender any anxieties I have about my career, to come to terms with the fact that a desk job will not be the pinnacle of my existence, and there is more to life than the number in my bank account. 

• More second-hand shopping, elbows deep in antiques, escaping the online capitalist retail hellscape. 

• To bask in the sun more, even during the winter. Bundle up if I have to, I want to sit on the back porch and just sit with my face in direct sunlight, allowing myself to recharge and reset without the presence of screens or noise. 

• More ambient lighting. There can never be enough.

• Ceramic plates and cutlery that don’t completely match each other. 

• To make my parents proud. 

Twenty-four is daunting, but as is any year that has already passed me by. I know that I am still young. I have so much more to offer, so much more of life and humanity to experience. It still scares me, though. Ageing and such. But I know letting this fear control me is no way to live. It’s no way to learn, no way to prosper, no way to grow. I am entering twenty-four with more courage and dignity than I did going into twenty-three, or twenty-two, and so on. It is my hope that I will have this confidence with every birthday I have. 

Twenty-four, please teach me. Allow me to spread my wings and learn. Expand my wisdom, my passions, and my ambitions from the inside out. Push me out of my nest, but please be there when I fall.