All I thought of on the Plane Ride Home.
Originally Published November 27, 2023
“Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid. The house is white and the lawn is dead.”
I was so scared at 17. I worried about my future and if my friends liked me. I hung out with people who tolerated me and I treated them like royalty in return. Cool girls negative comments lingered around me for weeks after. I had a 8:30 pm curfew and horrible skin. I thought I was a free thinker; I wasn’t. I took anti-anxiety medication and disrespect from so called friends. The ending of those friendships dangled in front of my face from the start. I cried in my car every morning of senior year. I was funny and smart, but I didn’t think I was pretty. I wanted to be pretty. I had unreciprocated crushes that I turned to for validation. I had a vest phase. I was a strange and loud girl. I didn’t like my life. So, I turned towards the future for joy.
I yearned for something more at 18. I thought college would be a turning point. Every day I dreamed of schools I couldn’t afford. My mom would always say “You’re always smart enough to get in, but not rich enough to go”. She was right. My freshman year of college was spent trying to stay afloat. I knew what I wanted but I’m not sure I knew who I was. I thought condensing myself into an idealized aesthetic was who I was. I thought my fun glasses were who I was. But, I knew I was a hard worker. I poured my time into applying for jobs and internships. My body felt every rejection letter I got. I missed my mom and never had enough money to do my laundry. I thought “If only I could get this job” or “If only I could get this internship, Then I’ll feel better.”. I was really just a teenager who was alone in a new place, looking for someone to tell me I was good. I had dreams I couldn’t wait to fulfill. I thought about it so much I couldn’t focus on anything else. During brunch plans or late night parties, I felt guilt. I thought “I should be at home working on this project.” I had made up scenarios playing on a loop in my mind. My daydreams kept me yearning for something more. The reality of life crushed me. I’ve never been a patient person. I thought everything I wanted would come to me sooner.
I lost everything at 19. At least I thought I did. Something bad happened to me. I couldn’t leave my bed for 2 weeks. After those two weeks, I showed back up and pretended like nothing had happened. I had fallen victim to grind culture and didn’t allow myself time to grieve what I had lost. I was not an angry girl, but my heart was full of resentment. I took all that emotion and channeled it into my writing. Something bigger than myself.
My heart is so full at 20. I feel content. I’ll never stop chasing what I want. Not ever. It’s not what I do. But, I found peace in releasing my expectations for my future. For the first time in my life, I am living in the moment. I’m not constantly worrying about my future. Instead, my days are now full of simple questions. What am I going to get at the coffee shop today? Should I get it iced or hot? When should I meet my friends today? I’m finally enjoying my life. I wake up thrilled that I can do something as simple as walking around New York. I know I’ll be fine. I don’t get scared that much anymore. No point in worrying when I know I’ll find a solution. My only worries now are my hairstyle of choice or what skirt I’ll wear that day. I don’t feel the need to be perfect anymore. I just know I need to be kind and determined. This thought process might seem quite adolescent to some. but I am more than content with my radical optimism. I don’t really care what people think of me anymore. I don’t care if people view my attitude and interests as something uncool. I’d rather be happy than “cool”. This contentedness with myself has changed my outlook on everything on everything in my life. I no longer hold resentment or anger towards anyone I once knew. Sometimes people aren’t meant for each other, no matter how much you try to make it work. I think that’s okay. Change is the only constant we have in our lives. Not everyone can stay around forever. Living in the moment has made me appreciate the time I have/have had with people. Even if the ending wasn’t the greatest. The love was still there. It always will be.
I wrote this in my journal a few days ago. It says:
“I can create the life I want. Not perfect, but full of love. I can have a family. I can be a mother. I can be a kid. I can make art. I can spend hours wandering around museums. I can stand on the street corner in the morning and let the sun hit my face. The things I have aren’t perfect, but they’re mine. I like that. That love is mine forever.”
I can’t believe all these versions of myself live inside me. I wish they knew how cool they are and how much life is left for them to live.
