I’m sure anyone older than 30 is laughing at me right now thinking just you wait, you’ll hop in for a shower one day and come out to get dried and find that there is a stranger’s body staring back at you. I know, I’m 21 and all that, with the best years ahead of me but it still scares me. I’m not ready to be grown up and I need life to get back here, calm itself and take a walk with me until I’ve figured out what the hell I am doing. Already, people are asking me,“So what would you like to be after university?” Em at least 60% sane, I think.
I remember being at high school, urging life to get a bloody move on, so I could stop wearing a stupid shirt and tie and get disgustingly drunk with my friends…legally. It seems that whenever you want it to hurry up, life staggers around behind you like that friend who had one too many Jaeger bombs in the club and can no longer persuade their legs to work.
And when things are going fabulously and you want to take a minute to enjoy the view, life has taken a 100 metre sprint while you’re hopping about, still trying to find your left shoe.
I really do have to agree with the horrendously cheesy line, “Time flies when you’re having fun.” It does. It flies right out the window, down the street, boards a plane and waves to you on it’s way to Bermuda. I guess the sad thing is you don’t get it back. So as cliché as it sounds, I really think you should make the most of every second. Steal that child in the park’s ice-cream, eat the last piece of pie that everyone wanted, spend the money you saved for Dad’s birthday present on alcohol poisoning, run manically into flocks of pigeons in public places, sing loudly to strangers, tell your boss that his breath stinks, eat people who tell you what you can and can’t eat, hug a sloth for crying out loud. Because if you and life do something out of the ordinary everyday, one day when you are both at the finish line, looking back together, you’ll know that those years that seemed to disappear in a flash, they were the years that meant the most.
Or…you’ll be in a low security prison somewhere, wishing you hadn’t run naked through Central Station that time because life told you it would be hilarious.