This postYou know, being twenty-five isn’t all that different from being twenty-four when you look at life as a continuum, especially one that could be eighty or ninety years long (not to mention infinitely long :)). And yet in spite of that it feels like I’m substantially older than I was yesterday. A quarter of a century. I can even rent a car now. :P
You know, I’m really, really glad to be older. Not that there was anything wrong with twenty-four or twenty-three or any of the other years I’ve left behind, but I just like being old. I seriously can’t wait till I’m forty or forty-five. Or even fifty or sixty. (Yes, I know your body starts to deteriorate then, but I’m willing to deal with that.) I don’t know why I yearn to be older — maybe it’s because I’m an oldest child? Whatever the cause, it’s real. I’ll be delighted when I finally start going grey. (Not gray.) (I’m a wannabe British, what can I say? :)) (Hey, that rhymed. And it wasn’t even on purpose.)
Anyway, thanks to everyone who’s wished me a happy birthday — I’ve really appreciated it. :)
