So innocent and wide-eyed and searching for fame... searching for love, searching for herself.
Dating the wrong guys, chasing dreams, doing bold and exciting things, making movies, making bad choices, jumping on airplanes and just forgetting everyone and everything behind me. Still believing in love, but doubtful, so doubtful. Looking for something I thought I'd find in the twinkle of the Hollywood sign, or flashbulb of a photograph, red-famed carpet, my name on a screen.
Then something happened.
My twenties became my thirties. I grew up and looked in the mirror and finally saw myself. And for the first time, I liked what I saw. Because I liked me. And that's when I found the guy. That's when building a family, something I always longed for, was a reality. That's when it happened. That's when I was home.
I can't help but wonder what my forties will look like. (Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, I still have several years to go...) but instead of dreading the age that used to feel so old, somehow this natural progression makes me believe that things will get even better. Imagine that. Better with age.
Better.
And why fear that?
