letters to july // 19.

Dear July,

Today I turn 22 years old. I don't particularly enjoy birthdays, as you well know, but for some reason I always have an irksome presentiment that I should like them more than I actually do.
Sometimes I get the feeling that I should have life figured out by now. Although the rational side of me tells me that I am being misled and that not everyone has it all put together, it's a thought I don't seem to be able to shake off. I have been told that most people have a similar reasoning. I remain a sceptic and insecure girl.
Blowing the candles off always feels like a mystic, yet not fully understood ritual. Everyone claps, as if I have in fact achieved something that is not the simple result of being alive.
The truth, July, is that you mark the season in which I spend most of the time reminiscing, ruminating many episodes that have taken place in this not so long life. A month where the days are separated into two categories - before and after the 19th.
And all of this overthinking has brought me to the inevitable conclusion that I need to breathe at a slower pace and take each setback as a lesson and not as an omen of imminent disaster and doom. I am 22 today and I don't have all the answers, nor do I need to. And that's fine, as long as I know what is really important.
So maybe I should actually congratulate myself, July. You have brought me sun, sand, laughter and sun-kissed skin. But you have also brought me wisdom, hope and determination for a bright, happy life. Cheers to us, and may we find each other many times again in the future.
I'm looking forward to it.

// Inspired by Emilia Diana Ruth's "Letters to July". 

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