My mom always likes to remind me of the morning of my fourth birthday when I burst into her room and made the declaration "Look! My legs are longer!" expecting that becoming one year older would bring about major changes overnight. With the magic wand of birthdays waved over my head—and supposedly, legs—I, Camryn, would be noticeably taller and oh-so-grown up. Move over, three year olds.
Though a few birthdays have passed since then I don't think this feeling surrounding birthdays has ever left me. I recently celebrated my twenty-second birthday and I couldn't help but feel that something big should have happened by now. Why don't I have my future all neatly plotted out? Why aren't I super confident and sure of myself yet? Why haven't I finished writing that novel and gotten it published? I'm wasting my twenties! What is wrong with me?
And then after I complete the cycle of self-doubt, I realize, wait—I still have so much time. And look, there's a cake sitting in front of me with candles on it and so many people telling me how much they love me and everything really is okay. And there's cake.
My only regret looking back on year 21 was that I didn't go into Forever 21 more. Even though I haven't shopped there in years.
It just should have happened, you know?
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