23 years old is awkward.
I’m supposed to do grown up things like pay taxes (omg) and have real food (chocolate syrup doesn’t count?) in my refrigerator.
I have a job title that feels like I’m wearing my big sister’s clothing that I stole from her closet. I’m waiting for someone to call me out for not having a clue what I’m doing.
I walk to the subway every morning thinking about how serious everyone looks shuffling across the streets, only to look down and realize that I’m shuffling along too.
I longingly stare at Manhattan Moms and their Bugaboo strollers, yet chicken out when trying to adopt a kitten.
I’m redefining friendships and falling asleep at 7pm on Friday nights. I can’t keep a poker face if my life depended on it. I blush over cute text messages. My diet consists primarily of coffee, popcorn, Skittles, and Brussels Sprouts. I save 70% of my income and still feel guilty buying cute celebratory dresses. I read books on the subway and can’t get enough of Dance Moms and (ugh, help me) Bunheads.
When is it all supposed to make sense?