23 Jan 2017

It seems to me that from the eighteenth birthday onward, every subsequent birthday makes me more and more anxious. It’s almost a burden that gets progressively heavier. It’s not the physical act of aging itself that I’m worried about. Well, not until the first wrinkles appear, the hairline begins receding, and the bones become achey. When that day comes, I’ll undoubtedly take a sledgehammer to every mirror, and burn the world to the ground.

I’ve faced muggings, on-coming cars that have narrowly missed my body, and serious health scares of the dermatological nature, but turning twenty; hands down the scariest thing I’ve ever stared down the barrel of. Maybe it has something to do with the expectation of having it all together, whatever it may be. In any case, there’s a definite confrontation with finality and a point of no return. That wiggle room I had for dun goofs and do-overs starts closing in on itself and, soon enough, it’ll be a lot like that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana Jones slides under that stone door, and yanks his hat with him just in the nick of time. Or so I imagine. I know I need to get serious, and I’m damn well trying. But what if it still falls short?

Certain aspects of your life that were always sitting in the back of your mind now becomes a screaming billboard advertising your incompetence as a human being. Can’t make your own appointments? What’s wrong with you? Can’t do your own laundry? What’s wrong with you? Don’t have your licence? What’s wrong with you? Still no health insurance, no career, and no house to own? Hey. Idiot. What is wrong with you? YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE AN ADULT NOW.

Fun fact: you know why as every year passes, it seems like time is going faster? Well, apparently, you stop renewing your synapses around the age of the big two-oh. Don’t hold me to that scientifically. Or do hold me to it. You know what? Do whatever you want, don’t let me tell you what to do. But only if you want to, not because I just told you to. Wait, I’m stuck in a loop now. Never mind. I only heard it from some guy collecting cigarette stubs on the train, and again in a movie that’s escaping me. But I’m sure you lovely people will have a shit-fight about it in the comment section, because if there’s one thing the internet does well, it’s react appropriately.

And then there’s the whole nutshell of your mind fully forming around this age. Your potential in all its entirety is handed to you. A potential that, if not harnessed correctly up until and from that point, can determine your limits for the rest of your years. It’s like your body is giving up.

Now this is the part where I apologize for being a Debbie Downer, or a Nihilistic Nelly. I know this is nothing original. Or even really warranted. I just so happen to have access to a platform that allows me to be embarrassing like this, to a thousand people at a time. I know life has virtually just begun, but when you see the end of the dirt road before you, and realize that it’s not that long of a walk, it can be a little scary. But I guess all I can do is keep on walking.

by Garry Lu