Monday, January 11, 2010
I turned 25 yesterday. Me. I remember thinking 15 was old. And now I'm ten years past that. If you're older than me and reading this, and are just going to tell me I'm young with my entire life ahead of me, then you don't remember turning 25, or 30, or 40, and the fear that envelopes you that your life is rushing to some conclusion, and the steering wheel just came off in your hand. That's how I'm feeling right now.
Don't get me wrong, it was a good day. I got treated extremely well by the man who loves me, and taken out to dinner by my parents. And maybe a little more celebrating will go on tonight. But last night I was falling asleep, and the only thing I could think of was the scene in "When Harry Met Sally" where Meg Ryan is crying maniacally after her ex boyfriend got engaged.
And I'm going to be 40!
Someday... Its just sitting there like this big dead end. And its not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was 73.
-Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.
It didn't help that my wonderful baby brother sent me a text message saying, "God,Sis, in 5 years you'll be thirty." What have I done with my life? If I died right now, what do they print on my tombstone?
Excuse me, I must go climb a mountain...