Perspective.

Perspective.
It’s such a funny thing…

I moved to Shanghai at 20, a sullen, depressed enigma. Threw myself into partying, threw myself into working, afraid of sleep. I used to go days on 2 hours of napping, afraid of crashing, afraid of the silence and the dreams.

Oh, how things have changed in a few short years. I’m 24, starting to understand myself, my thoughts, my ideals… I’m 24 and I didn’t realize how much I had changed, until I sat down to write. The most wonderful shock: I have matured!

I am 24 and I have my own business. I am 24, with connections that help me help others. It’s such a wondrous feeling to be able to send out a few texts, and get sponsorships for charities. It’s an incredible feeling to look back and realize that I hadn’t wasted my 20s merely partying. It’s an incredible feeling to understand that I woke up 24 and had succeeded in living.

I used to be so focused on the make all or break all of relationships. Now, I understand that the best kinds of relationships are the ones built over time. Over distance. This year, I reconnected with my first love, reached out to an old love, and I fell in love… With the most important person of all, myself.

It took me a long time to be OK, and I’m glad that I had that journey, that adventure, that heartbreaking depression. I’m glad for that minuscule shift in perspective that allowed me to stop weighing my worth against everyone else’s accomplishments.

Perspective is such a beautiful, scary thing.
These days, I go to bed early, wake up late, and breathe in excitement.

In a Facebook reply to the one that I used to say “broke me”, when he asked how I was “really doing”, I wrote: “I’ve been good, mad busy appreciating”. I am not perfect, my life isn’t perfect, but it is amazing. I have been crazy busy appreciating the fuck out of my incredibly painful, incredible amazing, incredibly incredible experiences.

So, in an incredibly broad statement, fuck “what I should be/do”.
Take your sweet time being you, doing you, doing those things you do.

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