It took me a looong while before I figured this out by myself. I was so bitter, so hurt, so sad. Devastated? I couldn’t bring that up. I am just 22. What could I know?
But someone told me, that age doesn’t define your experiences. That age doesn’t define maturity. That age doesn’t define your luck. And I totally agree with this, hundred percent.
So what am I breathing from? I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation nor do I owe anyone an acceptance. I think I owe that all to myself and it’s happening now. It’s so good to take a break from the toxicity of my past, stupid, careless self and thanks to people who never let go of my hand and supported me all the way to where I am now.
I am flawed. It’s an everyday battle to accept that it’s okay to fail and fall. It is just a matter of acceptance in which I guess I am always in denial. I thought I always get it. That I got it. But no, not as always. And it’s perfectly fine. So having this more than 6 months of breather helped me realized all of these. And it helps a lot.
I think the greatest lesson I learned from all my realizations is to love myself first before putting others. At such a young age, it’s better to build up myself first so that when I’m already whole, I can handle it all well and I’m more than solid- I couldn’t be rocked the way it was when I’m not. Self-respect, self-love, self-care. These are all vital before extending it to others. It always, and should always, start to self first before anybody else. After all, you can’t give what you don’t have. In that I’m making my mental notes.
It’s one hell of a roller coaster ride. But did I regret it? No. Not in a single second of thinking. As much as I wished none of it happened, I can’t. Because that made me a better version of myself, and it taught me lots of things that I will never ever learn inside a school. I’m not saying I’m glad it all happened. I wasn’t even glad. I’m just thankful that it didn’t totally destroy me, instead made me whole.
There is where I started. This is where I end.