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Happy. 22.

Two decades ago I had a mini fro and permanently flared nostrils. And a bow in my hair. I wish I could meet my two-year-old self. I hear I was already super sassy and opinionated. Some things never change.

I found the journal I kept from age 13-16 recently. Amidst the uncontrollable laughter at how weird I was, I stopped to wonder how I had any friends. Or how I came to be the almost-woman I am today. Thank God we don’t stay adolescents forever.

I’m just really grateful for 22 years of life – a healthy, favored, beautiful life. And a wonderful albeit dysfunctional family that loves me. And friends who stay up till midnight to tell me happy birthday and that they love me and are thankful I’m alive. I’M thankful to be alive today, here, in this place, with these people. My life is beautiful. And God is good.

And an excerpt from the old journal: “I can’t not date. There are just too many fine boys. But if I do date, I’ll have rules like no ass tapping, etc.” – me, age 14. What a gem. Haha 🙂

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About thehonestbrave

tending the space between where i am and where i want to be.

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