Just like the million others who is living under the same sky, I'm just trying to find that significant one to write my own fairy tale stories...

Monday, October 13, 2008

Growing Old

It is not an easy reality to know that you are growing old, especially for the ladies. Maybe it is the age or maybe I’m just afraid. Whether the cause is, I’m feeling a little unsettled as my birthday creeps nearer. With the minutes passing by, the anxiety increase staggeringly.

As I’m sitting in front of computer typing out this entry, I can’t help but wonder what had happened to my youth.

Whatever happens to my 23th, 24th and 25th birthdays?

They seemed to have fly by without my knowledge and before I know it, I’m about to bid goodbye to being 26. Have I just missed out something? It had been so easy to dismiss the previous birthdays for I can continue to tell myself that I’m still young. It has been so easy to tell myself that there is always time somewhere later in the future for me to do the things that I had always wanted to achieve. But as I approached the awkward 27, there is this nagging voice behind my mind that keep on telling me that time is running out.

Maybe being 27 is really weird. Before you hit 25, age doesn’t seem to matters. You are young, in the early 20’s and all ready to face the society and earn the first pot of gold. As 25 approached, it is simply brushed off as the mid 20’s. After all, being 25 is still considered as being young. When 26 arrived, it gets a little strange but nonetheless one can still console themselves by telling themselves that 26 is still pretty close to 25. So yes, 26 is considered as being young. But… What can I tell myself about being 27? I can no longer lie to myself about being a mid 20’s nor do I wish to admit that I will be hitting the big 30 in a few years. So where does that place me?

That aside, I can no longer pretend to be a ‘sweet young thing’. Someone who is still innocent about the world and too young to understand the society. The burden of life had somehow crawled onto my shoulders and as much as I do not wish to admit it. It had broaden my view but at the same made me more skeptical about life. I’m wiser but I cannot decide if I like the wiser me. It is always easier to know nothing about the ugliness of the world.

I miss the younger me. I miss having no inhibition about sitting on the ground in an MRT cabin and laughed away with my friends. I miss just going out in my school uniform without worrying that I look snobbish. I miss a lot of things that I could no longer do because I have grown older. I miss not minding the view of others about me. Why does growing up suddenly seem so scary? Have I lost more than I have gained?

Birthdays used to be a busy occasion filled with parties and celebrations. But that phase had passed as well. I’m more than happy to spend my birthday quietly.

As the countdown continues and the moment getting nearer, I can be sure that I will be in some corner blowing off the candles on my imaginary cake and wishing myself a happy birthday.

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