Twenty-five

In precisely a couple of hours time, i will turn twenty-five. Twenty-bloody-five. Unlike many other years before, this time, the absence of excitement seems rather profound. I used to be that girl who would grin from ear to ear at the thought of turning a year old. Old enough to drive, old enough to go to the cinema to see 18+ rated movies as i brandish my license at the ticket person; old enough to enter a club, just, simply, old enough.

And as i turn twenty-five, the absence of excitement has brought fear into my life. It is not unusual for me to be hit a pang of inexorable and excruciating realization that the older i get, the older my parents are too. If you know me well, you would know that i put my parents above everything else — love, career, friends, possibly everything i could think of. I would always make sure that i would be back before 7 just to be on time for dinner with my dad. On other days, i am mostly mom’s driver. I am so close with my parents that i even turned down an offer from a great job with a top bank because there is no way i am squandering my time being confined in between those walls until late night. I could not go through a day without my parents. I believe, the world is temporary and everything has its own expiration date. It puts me into this perspective where nothing in this worldly life seems worthy, except to always do good and be good; and to do things that are meaningful. Caring for my parents is one of those great things that gives my life meaning.

I fear of the responsibilities and commitments that i ought to carry. I feel absolutely nothing when i see my acquaintances getting married until i received a wonderful news that one of my best-est friends since before puberty is getting married and i am left with a mixture of nothingness and bafflement. Everything is so instant. It is like i had unwillingly boarded a train that doesn’t seem to stop. Everything is ever changing and it can be a little exhausting to always have to adapt to changes. The thought of being married and becoming someone’s wife makes my heart sinks into my stomach. Wife….The word tastes bitter in my mouth. Perhaps, my time hasn’t come yet. A part of me thinks that that isn’t the life for me but a part me of longs for it too. Life, i reckon, is just a series of the unexpected.

And despite everything, i know that all I have to do is to be strong for whatever that is to come. Age is after all, just a number.

And so i welcome twenty-five with a new bad haircut that i hate but grown to like.

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