Time flies by so fast these days.
Two years ago, I couldn’t wait to be older. I couldn’t wait for my life to finally be mine with responsibility to other people taking a back seat. I couldn’t wait for me to meet that person I’ll spend the rest of my life with because all these fuckboys are just a complete waste of my time. I knew I was wasting my time and I felt like that kind of fun is already enough.
And now I’m here. A couple of months away from my sister’s college graduation, a few years away from welcoming (?) my dad into our lives again. Has it really been six years already since the time I last saw him at home?
I can feel that the time where we can finally rise up from this chaos is so near. So close, I can taste it in the air. My heart skips a beat every time I think about it in anticipation.
Still, when that time comes, I’ll be what? 30? Older, even? The A-type in me can’t help but feel disappointed. At 26, I imagined myself getting weekly trips to the spa, spending a week out of the country with my friends, and being able to eat at a Korean barbecue whenever I god damn want.
No matter how many inspirational quotes I read, the feeling of disappointment never goes away. Regrets creep up. ‘I should never have spent all the money for something I didn’t really need.’ ‘I should have tried harder in college.’
Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t an eats me up and keeps me up at night kind of pain. More like sneakily crawling to you while you’re browsing your Facebook News Feed kind of thing.
There are just #dark days where life slaps you in the face in the form of birthday greetings to a friend reminding you that ‘hey, you’re older than her, grandma.’
No matter how much you tell yourself that people move at different paces and even if you remind yourself of the things you should be grateful for and how much you have really achieved despite the circumstances… you will still feel inadequate.