And the years, as they say, are short. It sure does feel that way, especially now that it's 2017 and we're already more than halfway into January. Before we know it, a year has passed and we're all left wondering: Oh man, where did the time go?

I'm writing this letter now from my dining table. It's a Sunday afternoon and there are—I kid you not—birds chirping outside my window. I also hear the bumbling of cars, a plane passing overhead, and a few children kicking a ball. Sometimes it takes me awhile to remember and for the reality to sink in, that I'm in a completely different house, in a completely different area.

Hello, from Bali.

It’s only fitting that I return to writing letters again during my holiday break. I feel like the past few months have left me drained in more ways than one — an irony given that I said I was okay in my last letter, yet clearly I wasn’t.

In all honesty, I fell apart when a relationship fell to the wayside. I let that shit linger for about a month before I finally had the guts to face it head on. While it tore my heart out to know it ended, I’m thankful to know how to move on with my life.

When I lost my mother in 2011, I didn't cry.

At least not in the way that you would expect a daughter to. I was in shock mostly. But I was also exhausted from trying to keep the rest of my life from falling apart when my entire family was being dragged around in the mud. We had our hands tied and the whole world was whizzing by in a blur. By the time cancer was done with us, we were spent, walking around misty-eyed and going through our day like zombies.

First adult confession, I’m not quite sure how the writing in this will pan out but I hope you’ll stick around long enough to see how it progresses. Perhaps that’s exactly the point of all this. It’s quite meta, actually. This project might just be a reflection of what adulthood really is: a process. 

The more I think about it, I do think adulthood is a process of becoming. We can never say, I have arrived at adulthood. It’s never a destination and it’s always a moving target.

It’s like whenever we come across someone much older than we are and think, “wow what a mature person.” But when we find ourselves at that age, we’re like, “I don’t feel mature at all!”