Somehow, despite everything, I’ve made it 40 years of life, and at this stage I’m feeling every one of them.
Yes indeed, as is tradition — albeit late, as this is a post-dated entry — my birthday has come (and gone now) and so my age advances another digit — another nice round number this time of 40.
Yep. I’m 40. I really don’t feel it, but at the same time, I do? It’s weird. Like, I know how old I am. I can tell time has passed, certainly, since even recent feeling events — hell, Covid started in my area 5 years ago no, as an example — but at the same time a part of me still feels the same as it has for decades now.
This, of course, is all normal — this is life, and in a way everyone is just an overgrown kid, but at the same time this is a point where I truly feel… old. Not old man old, but I don’t consider myself young at all anymore. Hell, most people wouldn’t consider someone 30 as young but those years certainly felt that way, compared to now especially. Perhaps it’s just the volume of chaos that has been going on the past few years wearing down on me, or maybe it’s just me truly feeling the passage of time.
I don’t know. Maybe in another 10 years I’ll have an answer, but right now, well, I’m still me, still doing what I love to do as best I can when I can, and even making progress in some areas I never thought I would — read, YouTube.
I may not be in the best shape anymore — my right knee is killing me constantly, as just one of many things (no more dance games for me, sadly) but my mind if still as sharp as ever and I’m sure will stay that way for many more decades.
Look out internet, I have idiocy to attend to! Post haste!
Happy birthday