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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required First letter to myself - The 20s, the loud decade of chasing titles, performing through burnout, and learning to honor silence Dear 20s, Now I am 29 . . . about to leave you. At 20, I couldn’t wait to be 21. Adult at last. But adulthood came with responsibility . . . and a hunger I couldn’t name. My first date taught me I had someone else to think about: awkward, beautiful, unsure. I spent time on my looks, only to realize what mattered was the pearl in the shell. My first paycheck felt like freedom. I spent it all trying to prove I was grown. Later, savings introduced herself to me. I thought I knew more than Dad. More than Mom. After all, they were ancient. But now I know . . . wisdom doesn’t shout. It waits. It doesn’t flaunt itself. I wanted more, and more… but didn’t know what “more” meant. So . . . I chased titles, applause, and faces that faded by morning. I thought ambition would fill the silence. But silence was asking me to slow down and listen. By 25, I met burnout . . . an identity crisis dressed as drive. I was exhausted, but still performing. More isn’t always louder. At 27, I broke quietly. I called it growth. But healing doesn’t happen loudly. It whispers . . . through reflection, through the courage to stop pretending. You don’t owe anyone your breakdown. And now, at 29, I’m learning to honor the silence that once scared me. (Published - Medium, The Healing Convergence Publication)
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