It’s a side rambling that came to my mind as I am nearing my 25. Time surely flies at its own pace, which might be horrible for some people who have been too occupied to be able to access whatever they want to do.
During the pandemic, my regular activity on Sunday mornings is attending online church service at 10 AM. This morning, too, I was all prepared up to 9.50 AM and slightly attempted to browse some fun videos on YouTube. When my conscience was slapped, it’s almost 11 and I had lost my one-hour life that day by doing things I wasn’t supposed to do. It was completely different from taking temporary break to keep my sanity. This time, I was simply wasting my precious time, and that my one hour would never be refunded to me.
After I managed to stand my ground and live off my own monthly salary, I decided to save up and go traveling as much as possible to broaden my personal landscape and talk to different people. My experiences have been nothing but bewitching, mind-engaging and heartwarming. Then covid19 hit the world and plans were canceled, happiness gradually shattered and there’s no other way but to cope with the current reality and try to bloom your own pace. Sometimes I look back on my memories about traveling; photos of landscapes, selfies with friends I met there, souvenirs I bought and even small receipts of food I ate in different places. I believe that time is supposedly spent meaningfully to avoid regrets from your future self.
Today I’m feeling nervous from the thoughts that I might be wasting my time all along. My life has been monotonously repetitive these past 2 years and, while there were some eventful occasions, I don’t think I have allowed myself to be upgraded to my utmost capacity. I remember listening to Adele’s “When We were Young”;
Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time
That we might be exactly like we were before we realized
We were scared of getting old
It made us restless
Adele – When We were Young (2015)
Strangely enough, it indeed makes me anxious that getting old is inevitable and there’s no turning back. You can do anything to stay youthful, but that youth will not last forever. It’s a momentary euphoria that walks past us like a lightning thunder; suddenly it’s gone and you can’t win it back. I keep thinking whether I have spent my youth meaningfully or recklessly. My inner self still wants to baby me, thinking that I was only a vulnerable little girl who is prone to wounds and heartbreaks. Turns out I am already a warrior in a battlefield who is fighting tooth and nail to survive the cold. I am scared of missing out too many gorgeous things in my 20s and being an under-achiever despite having tried my best. I am terrified at the thought of failing hard in life and not being able to live up to my own expectations. And, most importantly, I fear of trying to tighten the loosened bond of people whom I once shared my happiness and pain with on a daily basis, because it eventually signifies what it means to get older.
Finally, the last straw I am clinging onto was the motivation spoken by Judge Judy when she was onstage. “If you can’t make it in your 20s, you can make it in your 30s. If you can’t make it in your 30s, you can make it in your 40s. And if you can’t make it in your 40s, you can make it in your 50s. And just remember, Grandma Moses was a painter and she didn’t start painting until she’s in her 80s. It’s never too late.”
The Scorching Heaven 