Well, I’ve managed to make it through thirty years of life. I
don’t really know how it happened: one day I was in college
thinking that the thirty-year-old alumni were ancient, and then one
day I was old.
I guess it’s immature to want to be younger, and I don’t
actually want to be a twenty-year-old again, as I was kinda a
twit at that age. All of us are, probably. OTOH, it sure was nice to
be so carefree and sheltered. My greatest worry was that I’d
make a bad grade or get caught brewing beer in the dorm. In the grand
scheme of things, doing badly in school or getting scolded for
breaking the rules are nothing. It was nice.
It’s not too bad being thirty though. I can do things I
couldn’t dare to imagine when I was twenty. I can buy things I
couldn’t afford. I’m a lot smarter and a lot more
experienced.
It is a bit annoying to think how old thirty-year-olds once looked to
me, and realise that I look that old now. Oh well…