I suddenly feel kinda sad that aging is the price we have to pay for things to change and new beginnings to happen. That as quickly as I want the 2 years to pass so I can start life afresh, I'll also be losing those 2 years to mindlessness in the urge to get them behind me. Just as how that year was so memorable and precious to me, that it seemed to stretch into eternity, but was actually so short. And till today, I remember every single moment.
The place was filled with young people like him, not-quite-kids with tattoos and pierced noses, tongues, lips, ear cartilage, and (yes) chins, hair of blue and green and nickel gray and magenta that stuck up with faux messiness. They were soon-to-be graduate students at the nearby university, or philosophically inclined slackers, artists, aspiring "filmmakers", living off their parents till they figured out a bearable way to make a living or invented some iPod facsimile and set themselves up for life. ... These were people waiting for their lives to begin, people who, for all their manifestations of depression and grunge and loneliness, were secretly full of optimism and promise and the blazing, glorious arrogance of youth. Their mistakes didn't count, because their Real Lives hadn't yet begun. Things could change for them in an instant.
Sweet Ruin, Cathi Hanauer
Isn't that the way most of us are living? I know that's how I'm living. Waiting for that grand moment where I'll feel like I've finally arrived and never want to leave.
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