Twenty-five is such a lovely looking number. It's all round and curvy but sharp and distinct. Both numbers almost look like reflections of each other... I've been 25 for six months now.
25 isn't balanced. 25 is smudgy, no sharp defined edges. It's not curvy. It's blubbery and fluctuates between not affording food and gorging out on your days off as its the only time you actually have the time and energy to eat. Two and five are not a reflections of each other. They're two numbers so similar but so different, like looking in a halls of mirrors.
By the time I reached 24, I'd decided it was time to be a proper adult. It was time to move out, time to find a job I actually enjoyed, fall in love. The problem was, I'd already managed this by the 2nd week of being 24. Turns out I had already hit my high. So I looked towards 25. I'd had some rough times in the last year. Had to move back in with my parents, my job was stressful, I was struggling with love and health and generally functioning.
There's this huge pressure now a days to have it all sorted, to be functional. "They" make apps now to help you organize yourself, apps to make you thinner, stronger, smarter, more creative, more social, calmer, to care more, to care less... all whilst actually avoiding actually getting your life together. What even is together?! I've never felt so less together.
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