Though it’s been a little over three months, it feels like just yesterday I started my position here at Clapway as a full-time staff writer. And now, all at once, it’s December 2nd – I can’t help but wonder where the past three months have gone. September, October, and November effortlessly slipped through my hands like sand in an hourglass; it’s like I wasn’t even there. All I have to account for them is that I’ve turned 24 and feel exactly the same.
For some odd reason, my commute to work this morning was filled with recollections of the past and feelings of frustration about the present, which led me to write this. When I was much younger, my father always used to tell me that time feels like it moves faster the older you get. And for the first time ever, I’m starting to notice. I know it’s been said time and time again, but life goes by in a flash. It doesn’t slow down for anyone and moves forward at maddening paces you can’t control or keep up with. Life does its own thing and you’re merely obliged to survive.
It’s been three months – 91 days – since I first joined the Clapway team and it’s mostly been a total blur. What did I do in September? I turned 24 and detested the coming of fall. How about October? Halloween, my favorite holiday, came and went and I dressed up as a ghost – or as myself depending on how you see it. November just finished and all I can recall is the incessant amount of food I ate during Thanksgiving.
In other words: I only got older these past three months.
It’s not so much that I’m afraid of getting older or of not surviving, though both notions once terrified me. I think it’s more about not being able to look back on the years I lived and reflect, “I did the right thing.” Or “I lived the right way.” In the same sense, what is the “right thing” and “right way”? And who’s to say? I suppose it’s subjective. Perhaps that is what terrifies me most now: not figuring out what’s right for me, and not figuring it out in time.
