I turned 24 exactly one-month ago.
Acknowledging that I’m 24 feels weird. When I was younger, 24 felt a lot older. It felt more “adult.”
I’m approaching the peak of the hill that is my twenties. In 11 months, I’ll be 25. Then, I’ll be five-years away from being 30.
Thirty-years old. Fuck.
The idea of being 30 seems so foreign right now. And then, the progression of age that follows shortly thereafter (turning 40, 50, 60, etc.).
There is certainly a lot of life to live between now and then, but it feels closer than it used to be. That’s just how time works.
I’m six-years younger than my Dad was when I was born. I’m rapidly approaching the age he was when my sister was born. The concept of parenthood at this point in my life still seems like a foreign experience.
There’s only one thing that hasn’t changed as the years roll on:
Life is weird.
P.S. A proper epilogue to this blog for the year will be coming soon. Apologies for leaving you all hanging in the past month. Stay tuned!