I know that I'm young, still cooking and not fully grown into myself.
I'm still battling the same demons. Some of their faces have changed, and I approach them with vinegar and spitting bile, but those fuckers are still there. I recently started seeing a new therapist, it's time for me to find the solace I've been looking for, but didn't think I deserved. I'm on the right track, in the middle of the longest journey I've ever taken and about to start scaling the BIG mountains.
I have a lot more experience. I understand myself, my triggers, fears, problems, and I'm beginning to see the difference between a real problem, and one I created out of fear. I can see a faint line between my feelings and my damage. I'm gonna turn that line into a fucking gulf. It takes a lot more to get under my skin, and even when I hit critical mass its not nearly as destructive as it used to be. I'm proud of that. I've worked hard. I've worked hard for years to get to where I am now, and I'm far beyond the point of no return.
I can't fathom how younger me got through the things that happened to him, and I applaud him for his diligence and perseverance. He went through shit I wouldn't put anybody else through, and most of the time he didn't even realize that any of it was out of the ordinary it was. It's astounding.
You may be happy to hear, but I don't really drink anymore. It's been a year since I drank regularly, and I don't miss it. I was pretty fucking surprised to wake up hungover one day and decide that I was done taking three hours and fifty bucks out of my life to spend the next day nursing my wounds. And doing it three times a week.
I'm happy with my life, and I don't miss the years of rampant insanity, and general chaos that I used to embody. Yeah, I still cut loose now and again, but I don't have the drive for it. The fire that used to push me to, stay out all night every night, accost strangers in the street with nonsense, and god only knows what else has been gratefully tamped down.
I don't feel like much of a social person anymore. I don't get the same thrill I used to. I prefer the quiet gatherings, long talks, and moonlit nights on my balcony with the woman I love, to large groups and shenanigans. Hell, I'd rather stay in, take a bath and watch TV than go out, unless its something interesting.
The biggest difference is in forward thinking. I'm planning out the next few years of my life, when before I could barely plan the next day. I have long reaching goals, and I know exactly how I'm gonna achieve them, roughly how much time it will take, and what I have to do before that. That may not seem like much, but it's huge. I'm stable enough to plan things that are six months away, knowing that I'll do it and that it won't be much of a stretch to get there. It's a trip.
My philosophy remains unchanged, refined perhaps, but unchanged. Live for your community. Live to enrich your experiences, happiness, and love. Don't hurt people needlessly. Read for pleasure. Learn. Feel your highest highs and lowest lows. Write. Fight for the things you believe in. Fight until you're bleeding. Never back down when it's important, and never fight when you don't have to.
With this in mind, I enter the last year of my twenties, hopeful.