I'm not that old. Statistically I'm probably less than a quarter of the way through my life. Which is somewhat of a comfort I suppose. Because really, who likes the thought of dying. In the immortal wisdom of Mr. Robbie Williams, "I'm not scared of dying, I just don't want to." But dying is not what I want to write about. Not today anyway.
A few days ago I was speaking with Chlo. I said how when I was younger and I imagined being the age that I am now, that I would feel so adult and grown up. But I don't. Most of the time I still feel like a sixteen year old girl. (Question to all: Will I always feel this way? Or will my mental age eventually catch up with my body?) I said that I imagined that that I would have everything figured out. I suppose in some ways I do. I mean, I have a husband. And my degree leads me into into a definite career in education. So that's two things ticked off on the big check list of life. But still, I feel far too younger to be living what resembles a grown up life.
Chlo agreed. It was her birthday a few days ago. She turned 21 and she had a bit of a freak out, because when she was younger she never really thought of herself as ever being anything older than 21. Not to say that she imagined that she wouldn't live past 21, but that she never imagined what her life would be like. 21 is were it stopped.
And speaking of the future, it's something that is always so far away. In the future. I never think that the present, what I'm living in right now, is a version of the future that my previous self had thought up. In fact it boddles my mind. That's right, boddles.