This post is an excerpt from Twenties Unscripted: A Journey of Womanhood, Writing, and Relativity. The full essay is available in the book, which is currently available for pre-sale here.
There aren’t many things in this life of which I’m sure. The only thing I ever feel I know for certain is that I’m supposed to write. Aside from my core relationships, everything else just feels like ephemeral mush. And, it gets even muddier when you talk about my dating life. There are certainly times where I’ve worried that maybe a part of me has become dormant or closed-off from love. There are times when I’m on my take-over-the-world shit and I really don’t care about being paired off. And, then, there are times when I want nothing more than someone to nuzzle their face into my neck and whisper that I’m beautiful. There are times when I strip off the superwoman cape and see that I am as human and vulnerable as it gets.
And, while there are times that I would love nothing more than to erase the question marks in life and transform them into periods, I know that I have to embrace them. Wrap my arms around them and let the uncertainty melt into me. Let the uncertainty leave its imprints on me for a time when I am old and gray, a time when the stories already have endings.