I remember how back when i was a kid, being 20, was what I thought the oldest somebody could get. Now that I am 20 (and 14 days, for that matter), things haven’t changed a lot. In fact, nothing feels different.
I mean, other than the fact I’m no more a teen (and of course, the charming disbelief that comes with it) and that I can officially be called a woman (oh God!), nothing has changed.
Besides, the turn of events in my life, made me bypass all the fun years anyway. No narcissistic posts, but somewhere amongst all the maturity I gathered during the past (almost) 7 years, I missed out on the fun part.
I’ve got more calmness inside me than I can handle, sometimes. However, if asked whether I’d like to change that, I’d reply with a firm, old no.
Why, you ask? Well, because this is what makes me who I am. Whatever I am today is a part of me. And I’m molding and morphing actively every second of every day, into this person that I don’t know the minutest bit about.
The Ayesha, that existed a decade ago, is definitely not alive today. Perhaps, in another good ten years, I’ll get a few more wrinkles on my face, a few crow-feet lines, and, will be at a higher risk of getting myocardial infarction, I’d have taken a dozen more responsibilities, I’d have built a few more families but my real age will never sync with my age as per the calendar.
I’ll always be decades older, decades calmer, but perhaps…perhaps…millennia unsettled and eons void…