“You will be stretched.
Your heart will be tested, and you will get out of your comfort zone.
You have to.
And you will.”

It was last December when someone declared these words to me. It was like a prophecy, and ironically, it was also my prayer at the back of my mind ā€” only I was too scared to voice them out, because I don’t think I can do that.

I was 21.

I was happy. I was content. I get to live a life that’s okay, and convenient. I have a job that pays well. I was free.

Who the hell would trade these things for something that will take you out of your comfort zone?

Not me.

But somehow, magically, I did.

I moved to the city alone. I signed up for a job that lets me use my passion (and my ministry!). I flew to rural communities alone. I loved. I got hurt. I traded my pillows for popcorns, and my sleep for city lights and honking cars. My life last December is far different from the life I’m living now.

Today, I turn 22.

It’s not easy getting by, but I get by. Looking back, the declarations and prophecies made by people for me last December came true. I was tested. I was stretched. And now I am so far from my comfort zone.

I don’t regret anything, though. I love it. I love every single phase of confusion, hurt, scary katapusan-na-naman moments and the nights when I just stay up drinking soju despite work the day after.

I guess Taylor Swift was right when she sang about being 22 and happy, free, confused and lonely in the best way. Well, I only start being 22 today, so let’s see for the next few months… Maybe I can conquer the Iron Throne next? šŸ‘ø

…but until then, let me dance and love like I’m 22. šŸ˜


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