Today I am 23 years old.
It feels surreal.
I am older than most college athletes. I am the same age my mom was when she got married. I have long passed the legal drinking age. Were it not for grad school, I’d be well into my first year of “adulthood” (defined by a post-bachelor’s-degree job). I am older than Taylor Swift, but younger than Adele (not by much, though).
I feel like I’m in a silly middle place between college and “real life.” I spend all of my time in school (college) or at work (at a college) or with my roommates (3 of whom are in college) or with my homegroup (through a college ministry.) Yet I am beyond college. I am “old.”
But yet I am young. 23 is young. 23 is early 20s. Is twenty-something.
I apologize for this post’s randomness. I just don’t know exactly what to say about 23. Like said last year, there aren’t too many big birthday milestones after 21.
I also don’t really have anything planned. For some reason I have lost the excitement for big birthday shenanigans of ages prior. No skating parties of Minnesotan road trips or first drinks for this girl. Just my, myself, and my 23 years of experience to look back on.
I have to say it hasn’t been too bad…