Thirty-nine.
I’m happy today. Life’s not perfect. I’m FAARRR from perfect. My new beau’s not perfect. But perfection is boring and leaves nothing for struggle. After years and years and years of striving for perfection (a moving target anyway), I think I want to strive for challenge and risk now.
I don’t want to pout anymore. I don’t want to cry because things aren’t going my way. I don’t want to hold back because I’m supposed to be a certain type. I don’t want to wait for (or pressure) someone else to make me happy.
I’m happy to be here. I have things to do. I have risks to take. I’m thirty-nine.
*edit: Today!!!
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