22

This is me. This is where I am most of the time when I'm at home. I have a perfectly good desk to sit at to blog, edit, write, etc. but do I use it? Nope. Not really. It holds my papers (of all kinds). My bed is so much more comfortable. Please note the big bun on top of my head. This has been my summer-do. I like my hair long, but I like it even better away from my face, so it ends up in this skewed knot on the very top of my head. It's not even a fashionable messy bun, its just a regular messy bun. I don't care.

I feel like this picture really sums up year twenty-two for me. I did a lot of soul searching this year, and a lot of facing my fears and anxiety-filled moments have occurred in this room (I would like to note that I have an over-analyzing problem that causes a lot of said anxiety. I am very aware of it... irony). Anyway. Year twenty-three looms ahead. All of my 23 year old friends (note: all of my friends) probably think this is silly. I always hate my birthdays. I am not scared of being old, but I am nearly crippled with anxiety of missing out on the things that I want to accomplish in my 20s. I need to travel and break out of my comfort zone. I need to struggle a bit, and really find out what it is I want by doing things.  I know I'm still in my early twenties, and maybe I'll have this fear of missing out for the rest of my life, but I am really going to try and take advantage of it this upcoming year. No matter what, I am promising my twenty-two year old self that I will travel when I get to year twenty-three.
REALLY travel. 

Here's hoping.