At the time I'm writing this sentence, I have forty-three minutes until the calendar date of my birth. I don't know the exact time, but, irregardless, I'll be 21 in a matter of minutes.

19 was lit. Or at least the last half of it. I went to concerts and New York like it was nothing. I saw FKA Twigs, Florence and the Machine, Lissie, and more. It was an amazing time.

20 was.....whelming. The first quarter meshed with the greatness that was 19, and then everything post-August felt like a blur. Life was okay, I've done a few exciting things - like meeting Marc Lamont Hill and Jill Stein - but overall, it was stale. Oh, and I went to Chicago. That's a big one since I fell in love with Chicago. Otherwise, 20 was what it was.

I lost my aunt Katie last year in November just a day before my little brother's birthday. I still remember the funeral; her honor. She lived an impactful life. I went to so many funerals this year, I kinda don't want to get any older than 23; just enough to be grown, but young enough to be youthful. I was in my room listening to Ellie Goulding when I got the call. That whole weekend felt...disturbing. So much death. So much loss.

The better parts of this age was spring semester where I started having fun with friends staying out late and doing things grown folks in TV shows seem to do. In a way, 20 was everything it should've been; 19 was a hard act to follow.

Jack is still sitting just as it was a long time ago. I haven't written any fiction in a while; mainly focusing on poetry and non-fiction writing. But I do plan on working immensely on that since the story was so good. My poetry feels more free; less conformed. I get to do with it what I want and that's all I want really, freedom.

Tomorrow, when I'm actually 21, I'll write about my goals and what I'm looking forward to as a 21 year old. For tonight, 20 out!