Twenty One Years

twenty-one years have taught me

that no matter how much you swear you used to know,

you will always think your past self was a moron

but living in your memories only prevents you from making new ones

and the anchors of old mistakes will wear out with time

even if right now their grip around your ankles feels nothing short of suffocation

you will find the surface again,

sometimes by kicking the dead weights off with brute strength and

sometimes by carefully untying their ropes

but your submergence will not last forever

so long as you remember how to chase the open sky

and twenty-one years have taught me

that not one of us has it all figured out

foolishness is part of the human condition

but you can make redemption part of yours

we pothole our journeys with mistakes and doubt

but sometimes knowledge comes most clearly in the mud of falling down

and when the ground is steep and uncertain,

the best way to avoid fatality is to simply embrace the slide

you will still get bruises, of course,

and the cuts will sting of iron but the bleeding will stop

(the bleeding always stops)

and your scars will leave tougher skin underneath

and twenty-one years have taught me

that even the right choice can burn like hell

that the most painful blisters are rubbed raw by denial

and resentment festers like no other wound

that sometimes the sky will crash around your ears and

you will spend ages wondering if the quake was your fault

but the only move when your world ends is to get started building a new one

and twenty-one years have taught me

that letting go is the most strenuous exercise of all

that big transitions can cause bigger messes

and you know what? sometimes you’re allowed to go a little crazy

my insecurity is rivaled only by my insatiable hope

(I am clumsy in life, most of all in love)

but vulnerability can birth beautiful things

and twenty-one years have taught me

that simple moments can be everything

board games and riddles are more than ways to pass the time

when the time passes with the right people

and raw eggs are not meant to be taken as shots but

the memories are worth every gag

and the strands of laughter you weave into your chest will help you through each hard night

home is only a place when it’s a friend’s heart and mind

and twenty-one years have taught me

that when the floor is lava, you dance on the couch

that you’ll never regret saying “yes” to another round of Twister

(and that Twister is a recipe for hilarious disaster)

that things like glass tables and unquestioned routines are often more fragile than they seem

sometimes timing is everything and sometimes it doesn’t matter at all

and that Superman posing DOES work before interviews,

but nothing works quite like your parents’ call

and twenty-one years have taught me

that depth is admirable, but you have to laugh at yourself too

(after all, every one of us is ridiculous)

it’s okay to contemplate metaphysics and then pass along memes all in one swing

that though balance seems like an impossible task, variety is everything

but most of all, twenty-one years have taught me

that I have volumes left to learn

I’ve spent my life bracing for tsunamis, forgetting it only takes inches to drown

but I think I’m finally ready to face the next floods as they crash down

and I can already taste the rain.

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