The last day as a twentysomething

Today is the last day I'll be a part of the group between the age of 20 and 29. Tomorrow, I'll be a part of a new decade-thirty. The age gap where most people are already married, having children, working in a stable and secure job, with things that their fathers and forefathers could only dream of having after years of tenure and sacrifice. Their lives are already secure, safe. They are responsible beings, good fathers and mothers and husbands and wives.
And what do I have at this age? I don't have a steady relationship-I haven't had one for a long time. I don't have children and most likely will never have them. I already have a hard time taking care of myself. My work experience has been completely freelance with an occasional contract that is limited in its duration. All of my possessions fit in the bedroom I sleep in at my parents' house.

I have nothing written in my life. Nothing is stable, or sacred. And quite frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way. If by some reason or another, I had planned and calculated my life to the last minute, chances are I wouldn't have seen the world I know now. I wouldn't have done all the things I did, or met amazing people and as consequence lost a great deal of both beautiful and frankly horrid beings that were a part of my existence.

Sometimes, I wish I could fit in the mold. I wish I could have the same idea of what I want to do with the rest of my existence by the time I was 30. I wish I could be married and with two kids in the oven and cooking and cleaning and being a working mom. And look amazing in the process. But then I realized that I never could be that person. I will never fit in the idea that my family and friends had for me. I never want to conform-it would kill me to try and settle for less. Nobody should have to.

There are many, many things I still don't like about myself. The fact that I'm so naïve sometimes, and that I still carry with me the ways of a child. Or the fact that I have a violent side to myself, and that I can never speak my mind completely out of fear of ending up alone. To be scared of so many things that surround me. To sleeping around with men who don't want me completely and whom I cannot love. To be so alone in the world. There are things I would never change: my resilience, my spirit, the way I see and feel the world. My skills, however limited they may be. My voice. There will always be a part of me that's dirty and sloppy and not all it's meant to be. But I love each and every part of it, because it has made me the person I am today. I would change nothing of who I am. All I can do is upgrade them. How? For starters, I threw away my Doc Martens. Lifetime guarantee, my ass. I can always be a tomboy at heart, but I can't look like one until I'm dead. That's what happens when you grow older-you just become a different version of yourself as you grow. Another change? I stopped eating rice and French Fries. I look like a tub of lard, so I need to change that. (I still smoke when nobody is looking.) But the change I hope will endure the most is stopping myself from sleeping around. Yes, I was a slut. Yes, I used to be a slut and no, i'm not sorry for it. At all. I enjoyed every minute of it and I would lie to myself if I felt regret. Feck, who feels regret at a good old-fashioned screw? I don't. But I can't play that game with me forever-I will destroy myself in the long run. I need to find (or try to) one person, one truth I can cling on to.
I have no idea what will happen tomorrow and all the days after it. I am scared. I am scarred. But I am fearless. And to that truth I will hold. Hit me, adulthood.