Finish high school, meet a boy, fall in love. Move in together and get engaged at 20. Marriage and first kid by 25 — that was the plan. I grew up hoping, praying, knowing that this was how my life would unfold. That great love my parents promised me — it was coming, and it was going to be on time. It had to fit into my perfect timeline.

The first part was on track. Six months out of high school and in walks the boy of my dreams. It was as cliché as it sounds; we fell in love, my family approved, and I knew my master plan was unfolding perfectly (cue evil genius cackle). Boy, was I wrong. Naïve little Jade didn't realize this picture-perfect relationship would unfortunately never make it to stage two. Heartbreak struck at age 19 and I was sent back to the drawing board. My initial reaction was to panic — I had minimal time to find the next victim to keep up with my strict schedule. Operation "marriage and babies" had been compromised.

It wasn't until I had some time to myself and multiple early-life-crises that I realized it didn't actually have to be like that. Shocking information: life isn't all about falling in love! I finally had a minute to breathe. I spent each day doing what I wanted to do, I didn't have to check my phone, and most of all, the only person I have had to think of ever since is myself.

There's an idea that's wriggled its way into the minds of our millennial generation; growing up is fun, but we're all just mucking around until we find "the one" and settle down. Everything that precedes the chapter where we meet our soul mate is seen as a fill-in activity until the real stuff comes along. Why do we think like that? Why can't the before be just as great as the after? I can't help but think we are wasting precious energy chasing an out-dated ideal that has been instilled in us as the right one.

I think back on my favorite moments of the past year (post aforementioned heartbreak). I've done all the same things as usual; study, work, socialize. For some reason, it felt better this time. Since letting go of my childhood dream, I've realized that living is just as great as loving. It's been a blast, from laughing so hard with friends I thought I might wet myself — and I definitely did a few times — to traveling to this little corner of the world, Tuscaloosa. Even the small things like taking photos, dancing, learning, and eating (emphasis on eating) make me happy. Nothing special, but that's the point. There isn't a single part of me that thinks something is missing in my life. Being single means I get to be unapologetically selfish. I don't have to share my fun, or my food, with anyone. It's liberating - and cost-efficient.

I don't want to settle down now. There's a part of me that thinks maybe I won't ever want to settle down… or at least for a very long time. Maybe I'm heartless. Maybe I'm not a romantic anymore — who cares? I'm having a great time, and my love life (or lack thereof) is not the determinant of that. My goal in life is not to find another person. My goal is to spend as much time doing the things that make me happy, and I will do that with or without a significant other.