21

 As my final day as a 21-year-old young woman has only just begun, my thoughts drift carelessly to everything that I'd wished I had become or accomplished that I utterly botched. This year of my life was full of pain and self-imposed self-hatred. Although, not entirely self-imposed? That however is not the point, not of this or of my needless wonderings. The point is perhaps that there is only a point if you make one and decide its importance. The point I have decided is that I never lived my life as my own other than living it entirely for everyone else. That, must change. 21 as it turns out was the culmination of my understanding that I did my best as a caretaker and now, that season is over, and I must redirect inwardly. How much of us do we sacrifice until we realize we have nothing left when there is no longer someone waiting to receive?