Feeling thirtysomethin’

It’s been a few weeks after my birthday and I usually feel nostalgic at around this time of the year. It’s a perfect time to think about how the year had been, which days had been spectacular, which had been like a long, dreadful nightmare. It’s an occasion to be thankful that I’ve survived yet another one.

I remember back in 1998, I had felt so low during my birthday that my anthem then had been Portishead’s Wandering Stars. Ten years later, though I can’t say I feel the same, I can still relate to its sad air. Yes, there are days when I just feel the need to be sad, to cry quietly by myself, to grieve. And today, I’d like to weep because I am no longer innocent yet in the same sappy breath delight that I am no longer 23. I especially relish moments when I can tell somebody 10 years my junior, I told you so…

I’d like to think the years we spend in this world is an eternally amazing gift, and each birthday only gives us a better understanding of who we are. I know I’ve been through some terrible storms and it is amazing because—and kids, hear this—time has sure helped me forget. With each day, memories upon new memories are created to make up for where there had been bad ones. And while it had been like a long, long journey and there seems to be no bright light up ahead, I know I can only find the glow if I close my eyes and seek it with my heart.

I know I’ve yet to discover exactly who I am. I can only define myself as to the number of years I have existed. So at 33, I think I kinda like the me I had turned out to be. Come by in ten years’ time and I’m certain you’ll see a better version of me, as my new muse Fiona sings.

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Pictured: Art by galacticspacepunch