31 and Perfectly Fine
For the first time in maybe my entire life, I’m perfectly fine. I’m building the career I want as an artist and writer. I’m building the relationships I want as someone who never quite fit in a monogamous routine. I have close friends I care deeply about, partners I love spending time with, and a family, though far away, I can’t wait to see.
Nothing is a chore anymore, except cleaning, which I will forever hate doing and only accept as a form of punishment for being so awesome of a person.
Nobody is a chore. Where I used to find myself rolling my eyes, annoyed that people weren’t more like me, now I’m glad they aren’t. Just one of me is more than enough for the universe.
And I know I don’t write much anymore, but know that I’m doing okay. Better than okay, in fact. So good, I’m going to Disney World! (Next month, but it totally counts.)