Age is a funny thing. It makes us feel things we have never felt before. It clears our head: it gives us a sense of direction. It teaches us lessons that cannot possibly come any other way. It makes us feel more alive in our bodies, because we feel everything more. We think more. We are at peace. We are no longer bothered by things that used to bother us. Even death can’t scare us anymore.
We become a product of our decisions and of the decisions that were made for us. We are no longer angered or worried by the things we were in our younger years. This freedom only comes with age.
Our goals become different and more clear. Our talents more broad and defined. Our raw nature honed: raw nature that was the root of ambition. It has now become an accomplishment: and steady. More perfected. ‘Tis impossible to avoid with age.
We are more confident, and slower to anger, but we maintain a humble passion.
We are no longer driven to prove ourself to the world.
We are merely a part of the world, and we are content with that.
We have had to fight our way through.
The fight was never easy, but we knew what we were doing, even though it was difficult. We wanted to quit, but we couldn’t. Thank God for that. We learned how true other’s words really were. Then we realize that we are old. But we would not trade the troubles of our youth for the peace of old. We are merely different, and ‘tis unavoidable with age. Thank God, or we would crawl back into our mother’s womb.
There are still questions to be asked: much like a child. But our minds are far less chaotic: our paths much more clear, our humility restored, our morals accepted, our drive more fully cherished. No longer is our drive a compulsion, but it is a gift to be enjoyed for ourselves. Hallelujah for that! Dissent be damned.
Oh, dissent. What are you, really?
A subject for another day.
A root of doubt in the mind of the young.
What a pathetic waste you are.
I spit on you honorably, you wretched emotion, you.
Excuses are everywhere: age keeps you grounded.
No longer are you drowning, clinging to parents while they shove you out of the boat, but now, you can swim, and you decide where to go.
You conquer your island, you defend yourself against all tribes, you learn what is important for your survival and what isn’t.
Even your mistakes are fond memories now.
How will you handle the good things?
Perhaps you are not old enough for that yet.
Perhaps you are afraid of your true potential.
That will inevitably vanish with more age as well.
Your friends were right.
Your parents, God forbid, they probably were, too.
But God makes individuals, not homogenous blobs.
Ignore the clichés, but be an individual. It will find you, because God is willing, and then you will find your own way. Age will help you with your successes. Enjoy them, and live. Get older. Never stop getting older.
You will live forever.