Nine years ago, I graduated high school among the top in my class, with acceptance letters from every university I applied to.
Eight years ago, I failed college.
Six years ago, I became a writer.
Four years ago, I graduated.
Three years ago, I almost gave in to the pressure to get married to someone I was dating but didn’t love.
Two years ago, I ate in a restaurant alone for the first time.
Two years ago, I traveled alone for the first time.
Two years ago, I lived alone for the first time.
One year ago, I flew alone for the first time.
One year ago, I believed in myself for the first time.
Six months ago, I loved myself for the first time.