If you had asked me on any of my previous brithdays if I felt any different or if I felt like I had changed in the time lapse of a year, I would’ve said no; except for that one time when I turned 19 and I finally started to feel like a “real” adult–whatever that means.
But it took me 21 years and 76 days to finally feel really different–the kind of different that I would rather not feel. Somehow, being over the teen hump has brought upon me the weight of my years. I know they might not sound like many, but they’re starting to feel like a lot.
Much like John Mayer, I feel like yelling “stop this train, I’ll get off in the next stop and just stay there”. Maybe if the years stop running and dragging me with them, I won’t have to feel the pressure of caving to whatever society expects me to do or become.
It’s not that I’m afraid of growing old. I’m afraid that I won’t ever do what I first set out to do when innocence gave you wings and nothing was impossible. I’m afraid of looking back on my life and realizing that it was just a big, fat Blah! and that I did not do anything for myself or for the Kingdom.
For some reason unknown to me, I had the notion that the time of my youth was infinite. I could waste all the time I wanted on silly, pointless things and somehow make up for it later.
But now, 21 years and 76 days after my birth, I realize there really is no turning back. Whatever I didn’t do before must now be done in the future, if possible. Whatever memories I did not carve before today won’t ever be carved–at least not in the past.
I know that living a life I don’t regret involves risk. I’ll have to show all my cards, even If I don’t know if I’m winning. I have to dare myself to stop thinking about what people expect or want of me. I’ll have to stop second guessing my every move and just start living, like out of instinct–the instinct that we’re born with when we’re born of the Spirit.
I don’t want to live behind my coward excuses anymore.
A life of fear will never be worth telling.