There's something weird about getting older. I'm closer to 30 now than I've ever been before, but I still remember being 15. I'm almost always the adult in the room now when I used to simply be another child. I've got a diagnosis for conditions formed from the traumas of my childhood. Habits that feel normal but get categorized as abnormal. Fears that I don't realize are fears. Ten years out from the innocent veil of childhood and yet still keeping busy to simply stay out of trouble. Battling waves of nostalgia for moments almost forgotten. Taking life one day at a time to avoid the wave that is time. There is something weird about being the oldest you've ever been, but still not having every answer you seek. Does fulfillment come with age or with acceptance? Does acceptance come from compassion or exposure? Does exposure lead to comfort or fear? I'm still trying to figure it out. I'm trying to get used to this age before I turn the next. I'm giving grace to the 19 year old kid who was drowning because she's the reason I'm learning how to swim.















