Firstly I’d like to apologise for my severe lack of posts - despite my full intention and promise to do the opposite. However, now that I am fully settled into the house (that’s right, I’m actually sleeping again), the transfer anddd adapting to the hideous amount of work second year brings, there actually is NO excuse.
And so I present to you both my fear, and excitement of the fast approaching 21st birthday!
It’s less than a month away and as the title suggests I am a little unsure as to what to think. Hopeful celebrations include hitting the dance floor, most DEFINATELY champers (preferably of the pink variety) and probably NOT getting my key in the door. I get butterflies thinking about putting on the dress that presently hangs on my wall, ready and waiting. An the idea of another one of my mums classic homemade cakes :)
Along with that, however, comes another feeling of butterflies – just not the excited kind.
It may sound strange what with countless underager’s buzzing to be either sweet sixteen, rebellious eighteen or a content twenty-one, and I was no exception. Constantly older relations would plead, “don’t wish your life away,” but like every little girl wanting to grow up, such advice was naively brushed aside. It’s that naivety I miss now. It suddenly hits you when you tell your younger cousin a month before HER big one eight not to ‘wish her life away.’
After flicking through ancient photo albums it became apparent (as obvious as it may sound to those of you more sane), that you can never relive or learn anymore from that moment in front of the camera, on that exact day, than you did whilst standing there. That being said, perhaps it’s not a bad thing. If I hadn’t lived out those moments, I wouldn’t know what I do today. Suddenly the thought of ‘young, fun and living with mum’ springs to mind, just because those are the times our camera happened to flash. And that I suppose is the silver lining. It’s easy to look back and wonder what you could have done differently, but the fact is, you’ll never get the chance. It’s a shame it’s taken me almost twenty years to come to this conclusion.
I’ve always been the impatient kind who reads the last page of the book, before the first, and that’s where I think I’ve been going wrong. No longer will I try to fast forward through life.. I’m learning from mistakes, and how not to make them again.
Almost 21.. sounds like fun.
I look forward to being ‘thirty, flirty and thriving’ just not yet ;)
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