twenty-five

I recently turned 25 and it was tougher than I thought it would be. Not that I have an issue with my age, I'll own my age. It was the thought of turning 25 and that I was actually alive.

I never expected to live past 18. It was a combination of an absolute terrible home life and the suicidal tendencies that followed that sort of home life. To say my father was a violent man would be an understatement. He was unhappy with everything in his life, and I was unlucky enough to be vulnerable enough to be one of his targets.

The week leading up to my birthday I felt shocked every time I thought about my birthday. 25. Twenty-five. It felt strange saying it. I was going to be 25. I had lived to 25. I was in complete control of my life. I have my own apartment, my own car, I'm following my dreams to become an educator. I am in charge of every aspect of my life finally. This seems like a normal thing for some people, but when I think about all the freedom and control I have I feel giddy.

My shock has worn off about my age. It's being slowly replaced by joy and excitement. Everyday might not be the best day ever, but I get to experience that day. I might not always meet the best people ever, but I get to go out and meet and interact with people everyday. And surprise surprise, not everyone is out to hurt me. Actually, no one really wants to hurt me. I'm still learning to not look at everyone with suspicion and distrust. I've made huge strides in opening up and making friends, but I still have some difficulties.

Every day might not be wonderful, but I get to live it, without fear of being hurt physically, verbally, or mentally. Living without fear is something heady and wonderful.

Twenty-five is going to be wonderful, along with every year after it.