“Everything will be alright if we just keep dancing like we’re 22-ooo-ooo.”
You know the lyrics. It’s ok. We all do. No shame (if screamed at the top of one’s lungs in an extremely private, undisclosed location alone).
Every Taylor Swift lyric EVER has been permanently filed in my brain under “obnoxious” and “please, not again.” I love how much I hate to love Taylor Swift, you know? On this day, June 14 of 2013, my day of birth, T. Swifty’s lyrics finally began to resonate.
In the past month I have cried, dreamed, felt entirely useless and questioned my purpose in life. In a leap of faith (and with the love and financial support of my parents), I moved to Grand Rapids with very few employment prospects and even fewer friends. I share a home with five people I met ten days ago, two dogs, a cat, a school of fish and a Jagermeister chilling machine that glows in the dark. It’s entirely insane. And because it is only appropriate to blare Taylor Swift’s “22″ on repeat from the moment you awake on your 22nd birthday, I realized the following:
I am happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time. And yes, it is miserable and magical. Those who know me well are probably rolling their eyes at what would usually be my monotone delivery of an overly sarcastic, ever-so-slightly humorous comment. But I’m super duper serious this time. Everything about Taylor Swift’s “22″ is 1981038093% accurate in relaying how I feel at this moment in time.
I am only 22 years old. I graduated college a little over one month ago. It is pretty damn alright that I have no idea where God wants me to be, how I will get there or why I’m living with a circus until I figure it out. But that’s the beauty of it. I have spent every moment of the past two months hating myself because I wasn’t good enough to have a job offer upon graduation, because I lived across the hall from my parents, because landing an interview is more difficult than landing on the moon and because I just want to plan weddings and fall in love and become a mother and love Jesus and have a beautiful home with the bathtub/library/fireplace room I have always wanted. It will all happen… in His timing. Until then.
Everything will be alright. And tonight I am going to dance… like I’m 22. Because I am.
Thanks, Taylor. I finally understand why you’re about as real as it gets.
PR: Professional Rebellion 