Was mistaken for a 15 year old today which was a bit of a doozy. At first I was thinking WELL then at least I’m a pretty cool 15 year old before realising what a lame statement that was because it essentially wiped out one third of my life.
The terribad thing is that I don’t think I’ve changed that much in this past seven years: I’m still as bad with emotions as ever; I still take (too much) refuge in multi-coloured superheroes; I still struggle with finding a way out of my head, with trying to reconcile this feeling that there has to be something greater to life than all this dreary every-day.
When I think of what I’ve gained over the past few years, everything point towards the depressing negative: people can be assholes no matter how nice they initially appear; everything, everything ends. I still unintentionally ruin friendships, talk too much before I think, let things wither and get left behind. If anything, there’s a claustrophobic sense of time running out somehow and I not achieving anything much in life, that at the end of the day, I’m as alone as ever once again.
Which is rather ironic, because haven’t I already been through this phase in Secondary school? (The answer is: yes, but apparently, this crippling sensation never fully leaves you.)
I can say one thing though, I’m better at identifying when these periods of hollowness arrive now. Although plugging them with gratuitous marathons of super-heroes (now: Tokusatsu, because I’ve finally delved into the dreaded world of Kamen Rider) may be counter-productive, because they only serve as a reminder of how far away my reality is from what I wish it was.
And this time, I’m not talking about being a super-hero and saving the world.