Nineteen feels like August
The fragility of the infamous teenage years slips away as the sun sets on the last of Summer’s nights
bittersweet, although more sweet than bitter, I like to think
In year 19 I felt myself shifting, pieces of my younger self littered across this campus
some of those gaps filled for the better, others left searching
Must I fill those spaces or is this my new shape of being?
In year 19 I learned—am still learning?—love and intimacy are not the same.
but I have also come to know that the desire to love and be loved is the ultimate strength, not the weakness it is made out to be
Because it will always be easier to only make accessible the part of myself that is simplest to give away
In year 19 I crawled through the worst January of my life
I sank without resistance into the numbing grayness the world offered every day
as I felt the new foundation I had built for myself pop at the seams I had so loosely sewn together
In year 19, only February could bring the realization that my days began to feel
spring progressed, and brought with it the most fulfilling of friendships
and the easy lightheartedness of being understood by those you love most
In year 19 I fell in love with the simple joys of time to myself
the coffee I make for myself each morning,
the flame of my lit candle dancing in the windowsill
the reflections scribbled throughout my journal, allowing myself to feel and think as it comes to me
In year 19 I feel grateful for all my years before.
I hold tight each past experience for producing the mold I will evolve from throughout my twenties
Nineteen felt like August, but autumn is my favorite season