Embracing Adulthood


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I am okay with growing up – and in fact, I am savoring the process.

My mother wasn’t exactly granted the same opportunities as me, given she had an arranged marriage at the age of 21, got a divorce six years later, and raised a daughter by herself for the next fourteen. I am lucky enough, thanks to my mother’s hard work, to have been given the opportunities that she never received. I grew up as an only child and I was always showered with attention and comfort. I was told to reach for the stars and be ambitious and challenge myself, I was told to choose my friends wisely and to surround myself with loving people. But never once did my mother tell me how to live my life. The decisions I have made are for me and for my mother, as well as the rest of my family, and I am not resentful of that.





I don’t know where my life will end, and I could never predict that perfect point in my life, the one that makes everything following it is incomparable; like when a movie ends, and although you don’t know what happens after it ends, you know it’s okay because you have closure.

I’m a romantic, and I am unafraid to admit it. I think love is the most wonderful feeling one could ever experience – including all the little baby steps following up to it. But it seems so distant and so unapproachable and so idealistic. Not only am I questioning my capability to fall in love, but someone else’s capability to fall in love with me.