My first Korean birthday.

I love Korea. But it’s hard. But it’s not really, it’s easy. But still, it’s hard.

Does that make sense?

Probably not. But it’s difficult to compress my feelings about living here for such a long period. In one sense, it’s fucking awesome: it’s futuristic but traditional, it’s fascinating, functional and unique. It’s kind of like being a massive nitty, you’re on top of the world one minute and in the toilet the next.

Granted, the emotional turbulence levels out after 4~ months when you realise you can live without all the things you thought your entire existence relied upon. But still, you have those days where you think: Fuck. What am I doing here? Yesterday was my birthday, and I enjoyed it, but it really was the most ‘adult’, (tame) birthday I’ve had. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I had good people around me and it was a fun evening. But birthdays are usually a moment shared with family and old friends, and even a lot of kind DM’s and WhatsApp’s didn’t fill the hole.

Getting older is odd. It’s like everyone on earth is strapped onto a 500ft roller coaster with climbs, drops, barrel rolls, twists and upside downy bollocks. Except that the roller coaster goes so stupidly slowly everyone forgets they’re even on board. Until you get a little cake to remind you. This was cake number 23, a gentle reminder your twenties are well underway. If you’re still doing fuck all at 23 people aint looking at mummy and daddy when they see a hot mess, they’re looking at you. But that’s okay! It’s good, you’re never ready to move on to the next thing, you just have to do it. Like jumping in the sea when it’s freezing bloody cold, don’t walk in, just jump and you’ll get used to it quicker than you think. Letting go of good things is always difficult though. Uni was nearly two years ago. It’s disappearing over the horizon in the rear view mirror, no amount of ferocious wanking over the good times will bring it back. Take the positive experience to heart and forgive it for ending so rudely; shit happens.

But that’s just it. I guess 21 is party party party, 22 is WTF do I do?! 23 is okay, this is what I’m doing. I hope 24 will be: alright, how can I improve?

I have high expectations of myself, and that can often permit negative thinking, but considering 22/23 is really your first year of adult life, I think I’m doing alright.