So let’s face it.

At twenty-one I’m becoming a bit of a stripper.

I’m stripping down and shedding. I’m shedding that destructive little girl who didn’t really know her left from right.

And it’s starting off like this:

I’m jumping into that often heard of but unseen zone outside of the other zone they call the comfort zone. Twenty-one year old me is no longer going to convince herself she’s okay where she’s at. She’s going to acknowledge the actions of the juvenile and punish her accordingly. She’s going to get rid. Watch her fall away bit by bit, increment by increment.

Twenty-one year old me is going to pursue growth beyond the change in her height over the past 2 decades or the sudden expanse in girth of her breasts, the emerging attitude in the sway of her hips or the crayonic substances often splurged across the soft bed of her lips. She’ll start to recognise that we all somehow end up in this place; having to endure. Having to endure a period of shedding. She’ll begin to understand that for some, it is painful. And for others, it is worse. Be it our insecurities that we’ve refused to acknowledge, or the lies we’ve told ourselves and others in our making sense of the world, or the short sighted decisions we apprenticed in our moments of loss and the consequential disintegration into a feeling of nothingness.

Bible says, anything is possible if a person believes. So twenty-one-year-old me is going to start believing. She’s going to kick in the door. The door with the notice on it yelling ‘fearsome monster!’ The door she initially locked and shortly after which, threw away the key. She will parade through to the other side headstrong.

And on this other side she is going to travel. And along the way she is going to learn to unlearn. She will discover new truths about herself and regularly reach out to wisdom and knowledge. She is going to make fear go away and finally put her money where her mouth is. She will quit dancing around in circles and finally ask love out on a date.

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