a year older and yet

I turn 24 today.

Amanda claims 24 to be ancient. She’s watched me write a few sentances and delete them.

“You’d think you had died and were writing your own memoirs.”

Lots of me is different than it was a year ago. Were I marketting myself, I’d proclaim me to be new, improved, and better than ever both in mind and body. That always sounds to me like an apology for previous versions and I’ll concede that sentiment.