The priorities of my world exist, really, in three categories:
Love, family, and happiness. I care about other things too, naturally, such as being
successful and having heaps of money, but society expects us to be achievers of
those personal goals anyway. Everyone of course wants to meet their own terms
of success, but I expect that answering to my priorities will lead to those
societal expectations.
All twenty year olds,
of course, are stuck between looking at their future from an aspiring distance
and facing reality as it is. For example, sometimes I like to see myself as on
my way to having life figured out by next week as a result of my impeccable reflection
skills, and other times I see myself as financially irresponsible as I eat oatmeal
for every meal to save up some extra cash to pay my rent. Twenty is really the
best age to be; you’re not only leaving the adolescent stages of immaturity and
oblivion, but people understand when you only eat oatmeal and only do your
laundry once a month.
Thus, my priorities have some justification in my mind—it’s
ok for me only to have three, because eventually I will get what I want out of
life regardless of my age. But for now, I am in a really good place. I am
happy, full and capable of love, and I have a family made up of relatives,
friends, and everyone else that I meet on the way. I live like a gypsy—twenty and
in limbo between my foundation and the real world.
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