We talk about them hesitantly, tiptoeing around specifics and avoiding his name as though saying it aloud will resuscitate something better off dead, as though five random letters strung together in the correct order could summon the most lifeless parts of us. We talk about them in whispers, like making it difficult for our audience to hear our regrets will somehow make them easier to say. We talk about them cautiously, because we might get carried away and remember them like a human and not like a topic to avoid at dinner parties and birthday celebrations and other places where we’re supposed to be happy. When we talk about the people we no longer know, we do it timidly because we’re prone to remembering things better than they were, because we know we’re saying all of the right words to the wrong ears, because we never really knew our strangers to begin with — a truth our hearts can only acknowledge in the quietest and smallest of voices. 

Extracted from http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/how-we-talk-about-the-people-we-dont-know-anymore/

I want to remember the fear, I want to remember the promise, I want to remember the nights I wanted to curl up in a ball, I want to remember the people I’m not supposed to remember, I want to remember not knowing myself, I want to remember the moment I started to feel safe and like this life I’m leading is really mine. I’m going to be scared, I’m going to bruise my knees and not know how they got there, I’m going to try to fruitlessly forge a connection with someone who won’t ever get it, I’m going to lose the person that means the most to me and find my way back to them. I’m going to be a twentysomething because that’s what I am and all I know how to be.  And you should too. You should love every single moment of this hot mess of a decade. Chances are you’ll miss it before you even get to say “I’m 30.” 

Extracted from Why being in your 20s is awesome by Ryan O’Connell.