A Birthday Letter To Myself At Thirty-Nine Years Old
Happy belated birthday to me! Another year older, another year wiser…or so they say. But this year, I’m not just getting older but cutting strings and shedding layers. Because since 2019, I’ve been writing birthday revelations to myself.
I’m not doing it for you, dear reader, I’m doing it for me. To document my growth, to look back and reflect, and to prove to myself that anything is possible. And let me tell you; it’s been a journey. I've seen it all, from the highs of personal and professional accomplishments to the lows of heartbreak and disappointment.
But now, at the ripe age of thirty-nine, I’m finally starting to see the meaning of life (or at least I like to think so). And I want to share it with you, dear future self. So sit down, grab a cup of coffee, and get introspective. Here’s to another year of growth, challenges, and of revelations. Bring it on!
Ah, the good old twenties. The decade where we thought we were invincible, only to realize that we had no idea what the hell we were doing. And our friend here, a Marine no less, was no exception.
It’s like life was one big clusterfuck, am I right? A mix of empty sex, alcohol abuse, and people-pleasing — it’s a wonder we all survived. But hey, that’s what our twenties are for, right? To make all the mistakes and figure…
