25

Dear you,

I'm here again, at my desk, at this blog. The Fall is here again, too. She's a tricky one for me. Two parts beauty and one part foreboding, Autumn is so truly a glass-half-full kind of season. It's so much, the colors, the cool nights. Too much even.

I, like the seasons, continue to change. (Yikes, that line.) I'm not really sure where I'm at these days. The winter was intensely depressive, the spring hopeful, and the summer so tender. But Autumn, I'm just not sure about her.

For the first time in my life, I'm trying a medical intervention for my depression. The treatment itself perplexes me; the IV's and the nausea and the odd feeling of detachment I get when it's in my veins. They say it will probably help. Do I need help? 

I'm starting a new career, too. In a sense, anyway. I'm working on real, actual film sets. (Even if they are just selling M&M's.) I've bought special bags and markers and clothes and I'm fitting in better than I have any right to. I am so, so, lucky.

And my film? I think It's going to happen. I'm still so scared. But, I think it's going to happen. 

This is so much. The world is so much. Everything, everything. It's so much. And I'm here, in the thick of it, a part of it. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here.

It's like I said - I don't know where I'm at. I want to cry and smile and breathe a sigh of relief. It's everything, this season. Everything.

I keep telling people where Jupiter and Saturn are in the sky, and how to find them this time of year. I feel knowing the planets and how to find them is becoming a part of my personality, which is only slightly inauthentic as I can only find two of them during one quarter of the year. But, at least they're the stunners.

I know this probably sounds like something 16 year old Solstice would write, but: I've been dreaming about flying nearly daily. On a broom, in a plane, or even just by myself. I imagine gliding over the city below and observing as we go about our lives; how we all manage to believe we're so important and serious, how the work we do actually matters in a meaningful way and how we all keep our feet planted firmly on the ground. It's so, so, beautiful. And so, so much.

I turned 25 last week. I am halfway through my twenties. Honestly, I'd forgotten about it until just now. Two weeks ago I didn't get ID'd when buying booze and people are beginning to guess my age correctly. I am no longer a novelty to behold. I am a twenty five year old woman with a job and an apartment in the city. I am a twenty five year old woman who needs to stop writing and go to bed because I have work in the morning.

I am twenty five. Like most things about this season, I'm genuinely unsure how I feel about this fact. Apathy, fear, acceptance? Yes. Maybe. I'm not sure. It's fine. It's so, so much. 

At a certain point you give up on analyzing every little thing about yourself. Your wrinkles, your ticks, your preferences. After all, they've gotten your this far. I'm beginning to think this is what it means to get older.

I miss you all.

With love,

Solstice Everston