It's true.
At 22, a busdriver asks me 'child's fare, yes?'. My pride slightly offended, and without realising this would save me half the bus fare, I stupidly corrected him on my maturity. On my 23rd birthday, a man at the ice-skating rink told me: 'you don't look a day over 18', after calling me a 'grumpy teenager'. At my boyfriend's 24th birthday, his colleague turns over to me and exclamates 'you look way too young for him', thereafter estimating my face to belong to someone around the age of 19.
Of course, at the moment I'd like nothing more but to look my age. Even more so, because I'd like my life experience (which is very extensive for someone my age, I may add) to shine through not only to acquaintances, but also to potential employers. To be frank, I'm pretty sick of being so goddamn babyfaced.
Yesterday I met a man. Not for the first time, but rather from a brand new perspective. I was surprised that the experience left me feeling grateful for my youth.
'You need to let go, you seem uptight', he said.
At first this made me uncomfortable. Myself and my partner were the only two in the room to be firstly under 30, and more importantly, not clouded up on booze and illegal substances. Let's just say it was a celebration for a family friend.
I had no intention on getting less uptight, however. After all I'd had a hellish few weeks finishing up my Master's thesis, with three other deadlines on Monday. He continued.
'You know what you're problem is, you think too much.'
Again, I had no intention on thinking any less than I already was. I was clearly witnessing a celebration of the bohemian lifestyle. A lifestyle, where rules are only there to keep you caged, rather than safe from harm, and breaking them was the only norm. Not to judge, I let them. But chose to watch from aside.
'You have a plan, don't you. You have it all figured out in your head.'
These weren't the words of a bohemian. Neither were they those of an old and wise man. No, these were the words of a broken man. What or who broke him, I will never know. What I did know, was that he was voicing his personal experience. My imagination kicked off and I was imagining what great plans he had himself once had. Was his conclusion of five decades of life-experience, that life isn't worth controlling, as disappointment is what's served anyway? I could only speculate at the dreams this man had once held. Something had clearly taken away his spirit. I felt slightly sad for him.
It suddenly felt great to be a twenty-three-year old, not knowing what lies ahead. The fact is that the fear of uncertainty is ultimately liberating. It gives you the freedom to steer the boat in which direction you like, or to simply drift with the wind and let it take you. Feeling content with this thought, the babyface retired early from the celebrations, and let those with life written all over them get lost in this moment of rapture.
I will leave you with Goldfrapp's 'Let it Take You', dedicated for those of us who choose to drift with the wind, rather than 'thinking too much'...
At 22, a busdriver asks me 'child's fare, yes?'. My pride slightly offended, and without realising this would save me half the bus fare, I stupidly corrected him on my maturity. On my 23rd birthday, a man at the ice-skating rink told me: 'you don't look a day over 18', after calling me a 'grumpy teenager'. At my boyfriend's 24th birthday, his colleague turns over to me and exclamates 'you look way too young for him', thereafter estimating my face to belong to someone around the age of 19.
Of course, at the moment I'd like nothing more but to look my age. Even more so, because I'd like my life experience (which is very extensive for someone my age, I may add) to shine through not only to acquaintances, but also to potential employers. To be frank, I'm pretty sick of being so goddamn babyfaced.
Yesterday I met a man. Not for the first time, but rather from a brand new perspective. I was surprised that the experience left me feeling grateful for my youth.
'You need to let go, you seem uptight', he said.
At first this made me uncomfortable. Myself and my partner were the only two in the room to be firstly under 30, and more importantly, not clouded up on booze and illegal substances. Let's just say it was a celebration for a family friend.
I had no intention on getting less uptight, however. After all I'd had a hellish few weeks finishing up my Master's thesis, with three other deadlines on Monday. He continued.
'You know what you're problem is, you think too much.'
Again, I had no intention on thinking any less than I already was. I was clearly witnessing a celebration of the bohemian lifestyle. A lifestyle, where rules are only there to keep you caged, rather than safe from harm, and breaking them was the only norm. Not to judge, I let them. But chose to watch from aside.
'You have a plan, don't you. You have it all figured out in your head.'
These weren't the words of a bohemian. Neither were they those of an old and wise man. No, these were the words of a broken man. What or who broke him, I will never know. What I did know, was that he was voicing his personal experience. My imagination kicked off and I was imagining what great plans he had himself once had. Was his conclusion of five decades of life-experience, that life isn't worth controlling, as disappointment is what's served anyway? I could only speculate at the dreams this man had once held. Something had clearly taken away his spirit. I felt slightly sad for him.
It suddenly felt great to be a twenty-three-year old, not knowing what lies ahead. The fact is that the fear of uncertainty is ultimately liberating. It gives you the freedom to steer the boat in which direction you like, or to simply drift with the wind and let it take you. Feeling content with this thought, the babyface retired early from the celebrations, and let those with life written all over them get lost in this moment of rapture.
I will leave you with Goldfrapp's 'Let it Take You', dedicated for those of us who choose to drift with the wind, rather than 'thinking too much'...
