I attended a certain well-known Texas party school, conveniently located on a beautiful river and lived in the wild, fast-paced night life of that college town for 4 years, 3 of which held my 20th, 21st and 22nd birthdays.
I have started my twenties off as a bat out of hell searching for drugs, alcohol and bad decisions all while in a relationship with a boy who in the end was nothing more than a good friend and a bad influence. So I womaned up and kicked that mundane relationship to the curb along with all of the paraphernalia and possession involved and left it on the curb for good.
The very same day I met my next heartbreak: tall, dark, handsome enough, and complete douche-bag to the core of his existence. But as with many men of my generation, he was an expert at covering his Prince Hans a la Frozen side.
First came friendship, then came sex, then came the infatuation, then we were inseparable day in and day out, then came the “we’re more than friends less than a couple” talks, followed by the accidental usage of the word love; this series of unfortunate events led to my downfall. On my last night out in my college town a mutual friend enlightened me on the extent to which my current flames shittiness went. In a nutshell he had a girlfriend the first 3 months we hooked up, she had been in her hometown for an internship (reminder of his world-class con artist expertise: I was with every day and night even met the parents and stayed in his hometown). The next day I deleted all of my access to contacting him, every picture of us and blocked him off every social media site. 4 months later and I have replied to just 1 of his texts and have managed to lower my stalking of his twitter to just once every week or so, needless to say this is an exponential improvement from the original broken state I was left in.
I was a biology major with a psychology minor and 100% driving myself crazy. Then I woke up on day and realized I had no desire to take another science class in my entire life. This posed a problem as I was currently enrolled in a semester of hell, including but not limited to: genetics, microbiology, statistics, organic chemistry and their labs. So naturally I made the worst decision of my entire life and stopped going to class. I then withdrew from all my classes, and decided that I would start-up this fall with a fresh plan. Sounds fine right? Wrong. I went to school completely on financial aid so after making this decision I had to pay back a portion from that year. Luckily Sadly I am not a “call daddy & the problem is fixed” kind of girl, so I am still paying for that along with an apartment I no longer sleep in and electricity I no longer use.
In addition to slaving away in a degree plan I hated, I made the decision to rush a sorority. Now, had I not been 20 when I made this choice and rather the young, ripe age of 18 I may have enjoyed it, thrived in it, even loved it like some of my other sisters. Instead I experienced a certain sense of alienation from these “sisters” I was paying to gain for life. However I am a sucker for tradition and the idea of a sisterhood but the final straw and reason I dropped was when my newly found, perfect, still completely enamored with, Little dropped.
On top of a heavy course and social load I was a bartender at a local bar 4 nights a week. This in addition to starting the job summer 2013, right after I turned 21, lead to a heavy love of all things alcohol. We’ll save that debauchery for a future date though!
Now I am 22 watching my friends graduate, get engaged, get married and have babies. Meanwhile I’m over here staring at my parents 4 walls and thinking I am in a lull, a slump, a valley, a low point. I am not who I set out to be nor have I gone through the things that I thought were supposed to be my early twenties.
Then it hit me, these are my twenties that will be followed by my thirties, my forties and a lifetime of things falling exactly into place. I don’t know why I was in such a rush to have it all figured out! I am no longer in such a hurry and I am no longer questioning why things have ended up the way they are because I am exactly where I am meant to be. I am 22, I am confused, I am hopeful, I am young and I am learning from every mistake. I would rather be here, now, more confused than ever of who I am and where I’m going than still in my once college town pursing things no longer meant for me.
Twenty Something 
