It’s 10:01 in the night, on August 19, 2011.
In a little less than two hours, I will hope to attain certain levels of mental and emotional maturity. In vain, as I’m sure it will turn out to be. I’m nearing the end of my twenty-sixth year as a son, a brother, a friend, a lover, an enemy, an employee, an employer, a writer, a blogger, an asshole and a jolly, fat man. It’s not something that I’m particularly happy about, turning a year older, but to quote another jolly, fat man, “When you stop running and bend down to smell the roses, the terrific rip you hear is the seam of your trousers tearing away your modesty.”
I feel like I mooned the entire world for these years.
It’s 10:12 now, and I’m staring out the window into the inky night, picturing the leaden sky, when a light turns on in my neighbor’s backyard. The housewife next door comes out with some wet clothes and starts hanging them out to dry. I quickly look away, because she’s so ugly that I’m afraid that if I stare at her long enough, I’ll die. I hear the fan whine as it goes through the motions, countless times a minute. I hear a ping and I see a reminder icon flashing on my desktop tray, warning me of the various people I need to pay off. My phone vibrates next to me and I see an official email about a meeting we were supposed to have today. I sit and stare at the blank text box and wonder what to write.
How do I express what I’m feeling right now. It’s been such a fantastic journey with ups and downs, trials and tribulations, rights and wrongs, fights and friendships, love and hate, greed and generosity, intelligence and utter stupidity. I don’t think I can make it all up even if I wanted to. If I were given an opportunity to undo just one thing in my life so far, I wouldn’t do it. I would make the same mistakes again, I would have the same experiences again and I wouldn’t regret one second of it.
I have made some fabulous friends along the way and I have made some venomous enemies too. I have loved and lost and am yet hopeful. I have lived in sheer happiness and I have been depressed beyond measure. I have written and I have tried to. I have no regrets.
It has taken me a little less than two hours to write these four hundred words. It’s midnight.
I am 27.
Image Courtesy: Isilmetriel