Oh, Miss Twenty Something.
Her smile spreading from ear to ear, posed next to equally cheerful girls in each post on social media. There she is, walking across campus, drowning out the noise of her peers with earphones in, a clip keeping her hair off her neck.
Miss Twenty Something, lighting up her hometown bar with singing and dancing, because everyone knows her there and they don’t mind her wine-drunk antics.
Miss Twenty Something, staying out until the early hours fighting off sleep, then waking up half past noon the next day fighting off a hangover. She’s only 1/4th of her way there and she has half the world convinced she’s got it all figured out, then the other half of the world that knows her, recognizes what a brilliant mess she actually is.
There are few men but many boys who have done all they can to make those twenty somethings a little less shiny, and a lot less hopeful. Miss Twenty Something’s staple is using her heart before her head, and many of those boys know this and aim with precision.
What a beautiful mess she is, with wine bottles 1/3rd of the way full making decoration of the softly lit room she makes home out of. There are chocolate wrappers beside the bed and her charger is tangled in the sheets from falling asleep with her computer on her chest, attempting to meet a deadline.
You’d get a good laugh at the books half started, stacked in piles, which she swears she loves but just doesn’t have the time for at the moment. Ask her about her favorite sweater and it will change every week based off the weather and the way she’s feeling, because who in the world could have only one favorite sweater? (For the record, right now it’s the one with the green sleeves.)
Oh Miss Twenty Something, with teeth marks on her fingertips where anxious habits have properly manicured each hand. She falls in love with the nighttime and her solitude any chance she is able, basking in the quietness of the world around her while letting her mind roar. There’s a good chance if you call at 2 a.m. on a weeknight, she’ll be perched upright on her bed watching whatever documentary-thriller that caught her eye. She’ll be there, just waiting to press answer.
Miss Twenty Something, with enough fire in her eyes to tell you the world hasn’t jaded her yet, but with enough doubt and uncertainty behind them to let you know it has maimed her just enough. There she is, with a plethora of self-care and healing strategies, from journals to tea to vitamins—yet she wonders when the process of growing up will accelerate, and especially when it will stop hurting so damn bad.
When you’re thirteen, you dream of being Miss Twenty Something, unknowing that as Miss Twenty Something came to be, she wished nothing other than to revert back to the weight of the world she thought she carried at thirteen. She is the pinnacle of every childhood dream, yet if I could beg the world to be a little softer to Miss Twenty Something, I would.
She puts on a good front. I suppose that’s exactly what it means to be Miss Twenty Something.
To Miss Twenty Something: on your good days, bad days, and each one in between…
Every day you are one interview closer to your dream career, one heartbreak closer to the love of your life, one sleepless night closer to a normal life filled with peace.
In your twenties, it can be so easy to give time and energy to things which don’t matter. It can be hard to spot those who are “absorbers,” those who take and take with no inkling of returning the favor. Be protective of this energy, and choose your friends wisely.
Throw yourself into your passions, and I mean absolutely hurl yourself into them. If you could only comprehend the immense potential you have, you’d never give up on your daydream. You can do anything. Seriously—anything.
Have more forgiveness for yourself than others, because you are in the golden era of screwing up. Stop emphasizing the size of your risks and just take them. The worst you can really do is fail, and you’re bound to do it once or twice anyway. You are the most breakable right now, but also the most mendable. Your resilience is at its peak.
Keep in mind, Miss Twenty Something, that most things aren’t meant to last forever. Try to understand the transition into healing is seeing more positive than negative in that statement. A perk of being Miss Twenty Something is being able to get up and start all over again, being able to create yourself in whatever dimension you aspire to, with utter disregard of the opinions of others.
Miss Twenty Something, you are just beginning to bloom. And you will wither and wilt, grow stronger roots, then bloom again—over and over. Do not let the seasons of your existence cloud the fact that you are very much capable of your aspirations, regardless of the weather outside or within.
Prioritize your health, your happiness, clarity, ambitions, passions, true emotions, hobbies and anything else that might make you feel balanced. Don’t let anyone for even a second convince you that taking care of your heart is an act of selfishness. It is one of the most selfless acts, to step forward as an example of a person crafted by inner love, hoping it radiates outward.
Miss Twenty Something, take pride in the woman you’re becoming in the midst of it all. Slow down, and breathe. More than anything, learn the difference between holding on tightly and letting go gently. The line between the two is ever so thin, but being able to decipher between the two will be the difference in tears cried and memories cherished.
Never apologize for working on yourself, or dropping off the radar to do so. Some of our most spectacular epiphanies and revelations come from the moments spent strolling through the halls in our own head.
Try not to compare the path you are building to the one beside you, because each one will lead to different endings in their own time. You are exactly where you are supposed to be, no matter how the externals might make you feel.
Miss Twenty Something, there is a fire within you which is inextinguishable. Keeping it lit is your only duty.
One day, when you’re no longer Miss Twenty Something, perhaps when you’re Miss Sixty Something, you will look back and see the trails you’ve blazed with that little fire you begged not to go out on your hard days, and be so very proud of the inferno you’ve made of yourself.
So, here’s to Miss Twenty Something. May you know her, and may you be her.