When I moved to Los Angeles, I lost 3 hours. And five years. Some sort of weird time zone thing occurs in this city, and causes 20-something’s to get caught in a perpetual 20-something cycle. I feel as though I’m behaving as a 23 year should. A super cool, very wise 23 year old, but 23 nonetheless.
I’m 28, guys. Friends I knew as kids and in college are having babies and getting married on the reg, now. I feel that push, don’t get me wrong; my womb feels empty. I’d really just like to have a ring put on it, elope, get knocked up, and call it a day. But I suppose that, in the end…I’m doing what I should have been doing five years ago. Los Angeles is doing me a favor. I love my life, I love my friends, and I feel more and more sure that I’m not going to resent the children I rear for holding me back from being young.