I turn 26 in a few days. I'm not so thrilled about it. I loved being 25, but I loved being 24 even more, and 23 even more than that, and 22 more than 23, and so forth and so on. And while my best years are ahead of me (of this I am certain), it is sad to leave behind the years that so quietly, yet boldly left their mark. The years that showed me a thing or two about confidence and awareness, heartache and humility, adversity and inconvenience; all the things that so malevolently crept their way into my life during those years, only to exit just as quick as they entered, and leave me with a better understanding of a bigger picture.

But turning 26 represents so much more for me than growing one year older and wiser too ♪.

It represents the muddled mixture of entering my "late" twenties, and reaching that age in the entertainment world (read: dance world) where you are not so much desired, in a practical sense. People can disagree, but really, it's true. I'd take my 21-year-old self over my 26-year-old self for a music video any day... It's okay that I didn't make it in entertainment, because rejection after rejection builds character and there were a few wins along the way. I may have arguably had my 15 minutes of fame, but sometimes it makes me sad that I didn't try harder. So I guess, in a way, that's what this is about. Regret. I am not a professional dancer. And while I am pleased with my life thus far, we all know dreams never die.

Life has been good to me, and I am blessed. But I loathe you 26, I loathe you.