Personally, I have no qualms with growing older. Not that I can do anything about it, I know nobody can, but in general, I never worry about how the years are just slipping away. I wonder, yes, but worry or complain, not so much.
I like it, in fact. The fact that I have experienced almost 30 years of life already. Sounds grown up, right? And in my world, so many years translate to so many things. I am more in awe of all that I have done in all this time, than disappointed about what I haven’t. Which in its own weird manner, makes me an optimist I think, though I will fight to death to prove that I am not one.
That being said, I recently came across this. Lovely words, I know. But more importantly, it made me think about how fickle life is, and how we only live once, and how it is necessary that we enjoy each moment. It also made me want to go eat some cake, without worrying about the calories, and I did that (Honey almond cake, in case you’re interested in the details). It was yum, and I loved it, both the cake and the carefree attitude that I had just displayed. And then, reality struck again, and I went back to planning how and when I would have the time to work those calories off. Normal, you could call it.
Jokes apart, I decided then that I would contemplate a bit. I know, not my usual tendency, but sometimes a girl’s gotta act her age too. So contemplate I did, about what I would do differently, if I could relive my life. It wasn’t too tough. At this stage in life, it is actually easy to know what you could have done when you had the time. Like if I could, I would definitely play some sport and be good at it. And some musical instrument, perhaps the guitar. Perhaps I would keep my hair short. I would surely take more photographs of people and places.
I would study a bit lesser. I would definitely worry way lesser. I would not be depressed through my holidays when I skip a 5 mark question I knew so well by mistake. I would make more friends, spend more time with the ones I’ve had, and definitely make an effort to keep in touch with them.
I would not cry as much. I would fight my parents and refuse to leave when they try to send me away for studies. I would do my graduation in Literature, or Mass Communications. I would write more. I would read more. I would listen to more genres of music. I would not wear the same clothes that I did in college.
I would stand up a bit more for myself. And I would blindly agree to every judgment my father made about anyone (because admit it, the man is always right!). I would be a little less impulsive in some things, and a little more in others. I would spend less time feeling guilty about what went wrong, and more time feeling happy that it’s over.
I would buy a straightener, and stop wearing chunky platforms earlier. I would make an effort to look good. I would have more girls nights out. And maintain a journal. I would not tear up the pages of the one I did.
I know, small things. But technically, if you go by the Butterfly effect theory, all these small changes should add up to a very different course of life. But I doubt if in the long run, things would have been very different from what they are right now. Honestly, who am I kidding. Considering we’re talking about me here, I am pretty sure that they would be exactly the same.
And thank God for that.