Twenty is for trying, and for failing. Not for getting married or giving birth to babies.
Twenty is not, I've decided, for making a home or for standing still.
Twenty is for falling asleep in beds with your friends in a fancy hotel after not sleeping for two days straight.
Twenty is for waking up to kisses and walking out doors looking disheveled and a mess.
Twenty is for falling in love like you would at any other age and falling apart and picking yourself up and putting yourself together and over and over.
Twenty is for sleeping in late and building things and breaking things and for hurting yourself and forgiving yourself.