On Time Slipping Through My Fingers

Since around Chinese New Year, it's felt like my life has been hurtling along at the speed of light.

I've not been exceptionally busy, so I don't really know where this has come from. Perhaps it's a symptom of growing up. Quite a lot of the blogs I read have touched on nostalgia of late, and it's got me thinking. Have I left my best years behind? Am I passed my peak?



I remember hearing my dad complain that there didn't seem to be as much time between Christmasses and birthdays as there used to be, and dreading the day it happened to me. Well, I think it's here. I think I'm now officially grown up and my hopes of being a real life Peter Pan are crushed. Weeks and months are flying by, bringing with them new worries linked to all the responsibilities of my adult life, more grey hairs and the awful realisation that I'll never, just never, be able to pull off an Emo haircut.



However, I refuse to let the rest of my time, no matter how fast it's moving, be spent looking back. I did have immense amounts of fun at uni, and when I lived in Italy, and at school even - but did I have more fun then than I do now? I'm not convinced that I did - in fact, my nostalgic daydreams are often tinged with a kind of guilt or regret at opportunities missed or difficult situations.



True, I don't have a collection of traffic cones in my living room anymore, and my time spent frolicking under the Meditteranean sun is well and truly over - but at the same time I don't have to lie to people about who I am now, I do tend to remember nights out and don't need a cigarette to wake me up in the morning. My early twenties were brilliant, but I'm not sad to see them go. They both taught me and amused me, and thanks to those hectic, fast-living years I'm going into my late twenties a more sane, sorted and stable person than I've ever been before.



So here's to growing old disgracefully - without an emo haircut.