Forced again to come up with something to bring this to an end. To put an end to three years that have passed me by with lightning speed. But here, I have made progress and have spent my time, for the most part, how I wanted.
My face grows character as my 20s come to an inevitable end. Three more years and the #30 will decorate my birthday cake. It blows my mind. How does that happen? But here I am in my late twenties questioning my own mortality.
In a society obsessed with youth, it is not surprising that I find myself fretting over every new permanent line I see invade my face. Women have it worse than men, and I hate to think of how I will handle turning 40.
At least I have been where I said I’d go, and although I took it at a slow pace, college is almost in my rear view mirror.