In less than a month I'll be twenty one. I always thought that by twenty one I'd have my life under control. Someone once said how much they hated birthdays because after a certain age, each passing year was just a reminder of how little they had accomplished. I laughed at that idea. After all, I felt accomplished then, I felt that my life was in order. But, not so much anymore.

Perhaps though, I am not the failure I think I am. The failure that society has deemed me as. I am on a journey. I am feeling out the road. It is dark and someone has pulled the signs out. So it'll take a little longer. Maybe I shouldn't have to feel guilty about this year off. Maybe I should just breathe. Let it pass. But account for it. Maybe I should be whatever it is that I am capable of right now. And sometimes more, sometimes less. But, I need to stay happy. Because in the end it won't matter what they've said. All that will matter is what I think of the person I once was.