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16 February 201506:59AMlife

So I turned 22 while I was away.

This is actually kind of a big deal, because I measure important life milestones with verses from Five For Fighting's One Hundred Years.

I'm not kidding. I heard, and learned to play on the piano, that song when I was about fifteen, and I distinctly remember how impossibly far away 22-for-a-moment seemed. There I was, stuck in between ten and twenty, and the next verse was just so far in the future that it wasn't worth contemplating. I couldn't imagine the person I would be at 22.

And now I am 22, and I'm the same person I was when I was fifteen. Not that I haven't done some growing up. But I haven't fundamentally stopped being - well - me, at any point along that continuum. And as a result I got to experience the strange sensation of feeling like 22 is ages away, remembering thinking 22 was ages away like it was yesterday, and actualy turning 22 all at once.

I think this must be what 'getting older' feels like, as opposed to the anticipation and excitement assicoated with 'growing up'. I'm sure all the actualy people experiencing 'getting older' will be chuckling to themselves right about now. Look at that 22-year-old, navel-gazing about getting old, they'll say. Don't worry, folks. My tongue is pretty firmly in-cheek right now.

(Though let's not even get started on the next verse, and the possibility that that person actually getting older is me in the future. When I was fifteen, 33 was not even a thing I could contextualise. It was an abstraction. Now I'm wondering where I'm going to be when I'm 33, and if I'm going to be feeling the same way. It seems impossibly far away.)

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