Well, 25 years old.
I am not known to enjoy getting old, truth be told I have often exaggerated when expressing my discontent for my birthdays, acting more grumpy than I actually am is something that comes easily to me.
And it is true, I am fully aware that everyday that passes is a day closer to the day I die, but it doesn’t bother me as much as I let it seem to be.
To be honest, I feel pretty okay about getting old, I feel like I am improving every year, ever so slightly. Learning, having new experiences and discovering more of the world and myself.
So if growing old is the price for growing wiser, I am quite okay with that.
I am not worried by time passing, I am worried by time wasted.
And I do feel that I am wasting my time, or at least not using it as best as I can.
It’s part of the game I guess, perhaps everybody feels the same way, but I am trying to waste less time.
But I wouldn’t mind immortality.
25 years… 9,131 days alive.
It has been quite a good life so far. With great parents, good friends, lot’s of gadgets, games, books, movies, rain and happy moments. There weren’t any serious illnesses or hardship, no tragic stories to speak of.
I do feel lucky and am happy for that.
So what would I like for this this next year of my life?
Well… if it all goes well, my next birthday I will be writing somewhere very much non-Greece-y.
Might that be Scotland? The Netherlands? Could I be studying in a Master’s Degree?
Will I have a job? Will I have a girlfriend? Will she be hot? Will I be rich? Will I be famous?
Will I be writing here still? Will my writing skills have improved? How about my drawing skills?
Who knows? That is why growing up is exciting.
Time will tell, and as long as time tells more good stuff than bad, I will be happy to grow old.
Here’s to 26.