‘What am I doing with my life?’ is a question you ask and avoid relentlessly.
If you’re 25, give or take, I’m sure your plate’s starting to feel too small for all the questions, all the choices and all the decisions that you’re about to make. Every day you’re farther away from the person you were at 17, dreaming of a certain life, a certain goal and a certain magic. What once seemed a stepping stone for becoming closer to the person you’ve always dreamt to be, is now becoming a train you’re running too late to catch. I’d argue that age is just a number, that there’s still time and this isn’t a race, but that would go against every cell in my body that’s making me feel just that.
Looking back, when I was 17, I had hoped for meeting the love of my life at 21 and settling down by 25. I didn’t believe in the institution of marriage or in bigfoot, but that’s changed now (JK about that last part). My goals seem farther than ever and whenever I see the ticking clock I am reminded of all those promises I made to myself, that have slowly become things that are never going to happen. I’m no longer the youngest person in the room, or one with the most ideas, there’s always someone better than me; smarter, prettier, wealthier. Somehow, I’m at a crossroads where who I used to be is longing to be remembered, tearing the seams of my present and reminding me of all the things I wanted. Whilst, who I’m going to be is waiting to be discovered, begging me to realize that what my past aches for, no longer has room in my life. You know what they say about diverging roads, the grass is always greener on the other side.
And when I do look at the other side; I see something worth celebrating – me. As pompous as you may think that sounds, it is about time that I see eye to eye with the person I’m becoming and maybe the person I’ve always wanted to be. You see my 17-year-old self never imagined in a million years that she would get past her loneliness, find friends who would stick by her through thick or thin, she lacked trust and wrapped every moment of her breathing second into her insecurities. I may be work in progress but the grass is surely greener from where I stand.
I admit now, age is in fact over-rated and past, well past is a glorified version of how you want to remember your life and yourself. It always seems too vast to recall and too significant to forget. And in those moments you don’t focus on one very important thing: Your present. The present where life’s okay and you’re in control, where you can find a way to make a living out of what you love, where you can choose to come home or not, where you can live, learn and travel alone; where you finally make peace with yourself.
Doesn’t sound too bad now, does it?