Dear diary,
Today's Victor's birthday. His 21st. The first in the clique to come of age: Adulthood.
21 always seem to be of impossible reach, an age that I've been looking forward to, yet hoping will never arrive. Now seeing a friend reach adulthood, time never felt so real before. Very soon, in just mere weeks, I would set off too onto this new foreign path, to fully bear responsibilities for myself and others around me. I can no longer make excuses for my own doings, and am expected to behave maturely and thoughtfully within the boundaries of social conventions. 21 is an age that gives freedom but ironically takes back so much more. Perhaps I wouldn't be so morose now if I hadn't squadered my youth, if I had more foresight and had spent it fruitfully, to have lived a fulfilling and successful life, to have spent more effort forging stronger ties with people I love. Ah yes, if only. It is immature to look back at all the ifs that we would've wanted in retrospect, and this is not an age for immaturity.
Everything becomes so clear suddenly, the veil of denial forcefully lifted from my eyes. I see the greying on my mom and dad, how weathered they have become, how over the years I've took for granted that they'll be around for as long imaginable. I see my friends at the crossroads, making life decisions that would seperate and challenge our allegiance and its strength. I'm not complaining about my life. I've had wonderful moments, I've wonderful people around me. It's just regret knowing that for 21 years I had the chance to experiment, mould and learn, to love, capacitate and respect, yet failed miserably in.
I have run out more than a quarter of my life, now I sift through the sands that had slipped away, in search of my achievements. Nothing. Nothing that impacted or changed anyone's life for the better. Nothing that made me proud or worthy. You might argue that I'm overly-critical. Everyone must've done something. Yes, maybe I did, but when I look at the whole picture as an observer, hovering high and above all physicals, I see my life as incoherent specks and dots that don't connect and represent or convey anything. I don't see what I was living, or had lived for.
It's time to age gracefully my boy, time to be in stewardship of life and not sit on the fence watching it play out by itself. Therein the future lies.
Today's Victor's birthday. His 21st. The first in the clique to come of age: Adulthood.
21 always seem to be of impossible reach, an age that I've been looking forward to, yet hoping will never arrive. Now seeing a friend reach adulthood, time never felt so real before. Very soon, in just mere weeks, I would set off too onto this new foreign path, to fully bear responsibilities for myself and others around me. I can no longer make excuses for my own doings, and am expected to behave maturely and thoughtfully within the boundaries of social conventions. 21 is an age that gives freedom but ironically takes back so much more. Perhaps I wouldn't be so morose now if I hadn't squadered my youth, if I had more foresight and had spent it fruitfully, to have lived a fulfilling and successful life, to have spent more effort forging stronger ties with people I love. Ah yes, if only. It is immature to look back at all the ifs that we would've wanted in retrospect, and this is not an age for immaturity.
Everything becomes so clear suddenly, the veil of denial forcefully lifted from my eyes. I see the greying on my mom and dad, how weathered they have become, how over the years I've took for granted that they'll be around for as long imaginable. I see my friends at the crossroads, making life decisions that would seperate and challenge our allegiance and its strength. I'm not complaining about my life. I've had wonderful moments, I've wonderful people around me. It's just regret knowing that for 21 years I had the chance to experiment, mould and learn, to love, capacitate and respect, yet failed miserably in.
I have run out more than a quarter of my life, now I sift through the sands that had slipped away, in search of my achievements. Nothing. Nothing that impacted or changed anyone's life for the better. Nothing that made me proud or worthy. You might argue that I'm overly-critical. Everyone must've done something. Yes, maybe I did, but when I look at the whole picture as an observer, hovering high and above all physicals, I see my life as incoherent specks and dots that don't connect and represent or convey anything. I don't see what I was living, or had lived for.
It's time to age gracefully my boy, time to be in stewardship of life and not sit on the fence watching it play out by itself. Therein the future lies.
posted by sq @ 2:03 AM
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