I turn 20 this year.
In the grand scheme of things, I’m still very young and 20 years is hopefully a very small fraction of my life; a mere drop in the ocean of time as a whole.
That being said, 20 years to me is obviously the longest span of time I have so far ever known. Quite frankly I am amazed I have survived this long, especially considering I have lived away from home twice now. I find it honestly amazing that I am even allowed to rent a flat. I don’t know anything about money or finances or even life. Some days I literally forget to feed myself. I require adult supervision at all times – I am a CHILD for god’s sake.
When I was significantly younger, I thought 20 was a Real Person age. By the time you were 20 you were supposed to be a proper fully grown human being with a job and a house and control of your life. In recent years I’ve grown to realise that this notion is hilariously incorrect, but I still feel that my 8 year old self would be shocked and horrified.
I sometimes wonder if anyone actually grows up. Ever. Do the people I think of as grown ups really ever FEEL like grown ups? Or do they just pretend they’ve got a clue when they’re really just stumbling from one day to the next, just about managing to appear that they have their shit together, all the while feeling like this guy?
Maybe even my PARENTS, the most grown up grown ups I can think of (may it be noted that they actually aren’t very mature when I think about it but I will forever perceive them as if they are), are just really old children. I’ll never know.
I’m not entirely sure what’s brought on this mad panic-rambling, it’s just that I suddenly felt the need to tell/overshare with people that I sometimes forget that I’m not still a 14 year old emo kid who wears too much eyeliner and listens to sad music all the time.
The further away I get from that, the more it freaks me out. As I’m writing this, I really want to get on a train back to London, demand someone picks me up from the station (or else I’ll have a tantrum about how nobody cares about me), ignore everyone in my house and sit alone in my bed whilst pretending to be cool on MySpace or something like that.
Ok, maybe not entirely. I mean, I get to drink alcohol without it being illegal now. And I can have sweets whenever I want, sport allowing. And my life is actually pretty good.
My plan of action is to reach maturity by limiting myself to only one song by The Smiths per day and only posting the lyrics to said song as my Facebook status when and ONLY when it is completely and utterly necessary.
Anyway, I’m done with my oversharing now. I think my need to post was possibly arisen by talking about blogging with some of my friends today and I was reminded how much I miss telling people about how terrible at life I am.
I like to keep this blog ‘alive’ (and by that I mean post on it once a year) since it’s somewhere I can voice my inner most musings when I feel it appropriate. If it ever is.
So now you’ve been reminded how ridiculous my musings really are, it’s goodbye again for now. It’s been fun. Maybe see you again next year!