Last night, I came home drunk and emotional from being out with my friends. I tend to exhaust my energy by dancing to the “ones and twos” at a nightclub and ordering back-to-back patron shots. Tonight I felt like dressing up, drinking huge amounts of liquor, singing real loud, and dancing until my shoes came off. To be taken home safely — not remembering the little details — and awoken to a painless hangover. I think that’s just about every girl’s cure to a bad day or just overall bad feeling. We put on that dress that catches every curve, wanting to grab a stranger’s attention but no desire of finding the ‘one’ tonight. We might flirt and have forgetful conversations, but never take a strong interest in any of those guys. The ones that want to smile at you all night, but never actually get your number. Instead I listen to all the number one songs play loudly, seeing people laugh and talk outside of their normal comfort zones. Knowing that another girl in this club came here for the exact same reasons. Sometimes going out numbs the pain.

But when I got home, I decided to reflect on my weak ass life as a 22 year-old. I was nowhere I thought my life was going to take me. I did not have the dream job I yearned for since I was 10 years-old. I graduated college, expecting to land the position that would help elevate me to becoming an editor one day. Living a glamorous life that would one day overwhelm me. But that was not my reality — instead I moved back home under my parents’ roof and settled for any job I could land. Relying on them to pay my bills, pay for random shopping and weekend splurge getaways with my friends.

I was furious because I’m not proud of myself. I have not done anything remarkable that I can hang on a wall or be looked up to for by my siblings. I’ve given speeches, but about other people. I have not set deadlines or been forced to express my ideas about a certain project. I have not had a huge amount of pressure branded on me. I have yet to travel the country on my company’s behalf to represent them. I have yet to be hired. Is my passion not enough? Does my experience not show how much effort I have put into chasing after my dream? Does settling for an average job make me a loser?

I continuously beat myself up because I know I am capable of so much more, but I have stuff to show. I look at younger children that set goals and accomplish them the next week. And every time I think of why I am not there, I go blank. As much as I beat myself up, my reality is not so bad at twenty-two years old. Because of what I know now, shows me that I am growing already. In two or three years, I will not choose to go out for the same reasons. It will be a time to celebrate how much I am NOT what I used to be.

Doesn’t that count for something?

Devika