Two years.
Exactly two years and about a hundred answers aka rumbles on Quora posts, a fistful half baked travel blogs and journals later, I am finally back on my blog.
And this time, I am on a new URL, hiding my identity as this is just for myself.
Noone else, just myself.
I was flipping through the pages of the blog (well, literally just clicking but I like the way flipping sounds better). Back in the posts of 2015, 2014, 2013... Oh I love my 25 year old self. I love the pearls of wisdom and authenticity scattered all over these pages. I just adore how I thought, expressed and felt.
Now I know, despite the failed diets and missed goals, this is success. Despite the stupidity and mistakes, I was perfect. Five years later today, I am able to look back at myself and feel a deep, deep love. Love for my 25 year old self, love for that naive little girl who could put her heart out. Love for the sweet dreamy girl who knows how to aspire.
This is success, not my job, not my degree, not what I have or have not achieved. Looking back and feeling this deep churn in my heart for my younger self, her genuine tears, her silly laughters - all sparkling this very blog. I have lived alone and lived well. And I have learned to love myself.
I love myself. I feel complete. I look back and smile and know that I am enough.
I always have been enough.
Exactly two years and about a hundred answers aka rumbles on Quora posts, a fistful half baked travel blogs and journals later, I am finally back on my blog.
And this time, I am on a new URL, hiding my identity as this is just for myself.
Noone else, just myself.
I was flipping through the pages of the blog (well, literally just clicking but I like the way flipping sounds better). Back in the posts of 2015, 2014, 2013... Oh I love my 25 year old self. I love the pearls of wisdom and authenticity scattered all over these pages. I just adore how I thought, expressed and felt.
Now I know, despite the failed diets and missed goals, this is success. Despite the stupidity and mistakes, I was perfect. Five years later today, I am able to look back at myself and feel a deep, deep love. Love for my 25 year old self, love for that naive little girl who could put her heart out. Love for the sweet dreamy girl who knows how to aspire.
This is success, not my job, not my degree, not what I have or have not achieved. Looking back and feeling this deep churn in my heart for my younger self, her genuine tears, her silly laughters - all sparkling this very blog. I have lived alone and lived well. And I have learned to love myself.
I love myself. I feel complete. I look back and smile and know that I am enough.
I always have been enough.
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