a farewell letter to my 20s

to the last decade of my life,

I can't believe it's already time to say goodbye. well, in a way I can, because it feels like we've been together forever. the memories before you are faded and have blurry outlines, like they're water damaged from being submerged in my mind for so long. but the ones with you are like a box of fireworks- contained now by the limits of the past, but exploding brightly with a kaleidoscope of colour and sound and sweet chaos, fuelled by an impulse for wilderness and sensation and exclamation, sometimes dangerous, pressurized contents, vivid light etched on my vision, visible even when I close my eyes. a show. a celebration. a shared experience. a delight. a force pulling strangers together. sometimes scary, making dogs howl in the distance. sometimes pointless, sometimes too loud. and now it's over, it's time to walk back home in the summer night, and the quiet.

we had so much fun together. I think we made literally hundreds of friends, some for a night and some for a lifetime. we ran wild in the streets, overdressed for house parties and underdressed for winter, biking like maniacs down empty streets in the early hours, eyes shiny and bright, legs tireless, minds restless and teeth chattering. we danced a million dances to a million songs. we kept the fire burning. I swam everywhere, a ceaseless urge to be underwater, weightless. we climbed fences and dived naked into pools, like mermaids. we were free. in the long days of summer we prayed to the sun, on the grass, on the roof, on the concrete. always rolling a joint, always a drink in hand, we were always planning the next party and recovering from the last one. sometimes we knew what was important, and sometimes we were so far off. I remember once I fell off my bike and just laughed and laughed, because I was completely fine. I was fine. I was safe. the early years are like that, in my memory. not a scratch.

the shiny high times had a dark side too, of course. dark days with darkened curtains, trying to darken my brain, turn down all the brightness. powering down, shutting off. bright screens and dark feelings. I remember being curled on the ground under that gorgeous stained glass window, those apartments were so sweet and luminous, trying to tell my sweet roommate that I had nothing to look forward to. the future was full of a terrifying blankness. how was that possible? I had everything and I had everything waiting for me. I couldn't see through the mist and the winters. we were there for each other, that's what mattered, but sometimes we were all just lost at sea. floating and aimless, changing course, seeking the horizon. so much energy seeking some release. 

we went everywhere together. you loved nothing more than getting lost in a tangle of alleys awash in newness, finding the familiar in the far away. we were nearly fearless. how is it possible that I was so unafraid? we were brand new, too. we walked barefoot down worn roads to so many beaches that I vowed would never be boxed up and collect dust in my mind, but they have, of course. rocky paths that burned the soles of our feet, a pantomime of running as we made for the cool water. mossy groves in green forests that smelled like pine and honey, and buzzed with bees. canal streets so narrow you had to walk sideways, and the long view of history from the top of the dome, pushing twin beds together and morning bells. holding a stranger's hand in the subway, feeling their precious heart. everywhere i went i wanted to know everyone. i looked for shortcuts to knowing, tracing lines on bodies, indents in couches, telling secrets in small bedrooms, just a mattress on the floor. like a child longing for one more story, i didn't want to miss a thing.

i treasure you, my tender becoming. there really was something vibrant and alive in all the chaos, a powerful current of meaning running through the noise. an introduction to love. i will probably never feel ready to say goodbye, to let go. but I have been preparing for this departure, and this arrival. I saw it coming. the noise in my head, all the exclamations and emphasis, started to demand a peaceful place to rest, there was a gentle hush over the layered sounds. I started needing something new, something to grow, different soil. a quietude, a calmness, a balm. 

and here we find ourselves finally. all these sparks of memory, the light and heat and warmth, wrapped like a gift with a bow. i know time can't be put in a box for safe storage; it has its own circular momentum and mechanisms of eternal return. but we segment it still. acts come to a close, and the drawing curtains and rising lights let us leave our seats and exit out into the fresh air. 

maybe it's like they say, it's not really goodbye, nothing stuck in time really ends.
i love you. you've made me who i am, the best version of me yet. 

so thank you, for making me ready for what's next.