I wanted to start off this post with ‘At twenty-four…’ but I stopped. Age is creeping up on me. I didn’t used to think age was such a big deal. I didn’t used to say ‘at thirteen’, or ‘at nineteen’. Somehow, past twenty, every additional year seems like a milestone. And every additional year without achievements seems like a year wasted. Youth is not something I can throw around carelessly anymore. It is quietly slipping away, like sand slipping through fingers.
Since young, I have always had the habit of arranging my dreams neatly into a timeline. I obviously had a clear agenda of my life and it used to be easy. I guess when you have no commitments, you can be fully devoted to realizing your goals in life. Yet this time, and I’m being pensive here because a twelveth of 2015 has passed, I have never been more uncertain about my life.
I don’t know what is going to happen in 2015. I don’t know if anything I long for is going to happen at all (and I do long for many things that are beyond my control). It’s so weird because I feel so helpless everyday, a feeling I only started developing last year. There’s pretty much nothing much I can do except to go about my daily routine. For the first time in life, I don’t know what to list for my New Year Resolutions because they are more wishes than resolutions.
Eleven twelveths more to go.