I just had my 25th birthday. There was no celebration, no cake, no fancy dinner. If it hadn't been for my work mates, I wouldn't have bothered remembering it really. I mean, when I was in my teen years, birthdays were really nice, but in your mid twenties, it somehow becomes way too annoying, pretty much like a dentist appointment or botox treatment (probably for older people) or something like that. You just want to get it over with. And when you're done, you have a whole year to count before it comes around again. Although I'm not really counting. I guess, it's a nasty reminder of how my life is slowly unfolding before my eyes. And I don't think I'm really happy about this so called life. Not that I'm sad and alone and pathetic. It's just that every year, I feel like I'm missing out on something. Like my life is dragging, and nothing is really happening. You know? Like there is a life out there for me, which I'm not aware of, or something God has entitled me, but is still yet to happen. I know that's probably weird, and you probably think I'm just insane. But shouldn't there be something more to life than just work, paying the bills, and the rest of the whole nine yards?
Shouldn't there be more to learn in life than the rules of English grammar and more to accomplish than getting an 8-hour corporate day job that pays us twice a month?
With all these confluence of things in my life, I feel like there is a huge void in me, that's empty and waiting to be filled. But with what? I know stuffing it with Armani shirts and Louis Vuitton might somehow appease the shopoholic in me but for how long?
That's just really great, isn't it? I'm 25 and I don't know the answer.
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