few hours more and i’ll be another year older, and i don’t know but i feel, somewhat melancholic about it. not that i’m not excited. or am i? i suddenly feel like i missed something, or i should have done something while life was easier to live. i just thought, i lost a lot of chance before and there are things i wish i haven’t experienced, and they are all coming back to me like a guilty dagger looking for its owner.
one night to go and i’ll be turning 21. isn’t that amazing? (or boring?) and i remember my childhood, while my playmates are too eager to grow old and wear big clothes, i think i was the only who wished to have stayed a child forever. maybe that’s why i like Peter Pan very much. i remember to have watched it many times. i remember my sister to be so annoyed about it. and i don’t know, but every time i watch it… it’s like the first time, always.
i remember my teacher in cognitive psychology, and he told me about how childish i am, that all my fantasies should be gone once i turn 21 cause it’s the age where this specific part of your brain matures and i’ll eventually forget about my child-like fantasies. i remember how scared and nervous i was that i said, i wish that part of my brain won’t get old as my age; that even if i get old, it will still remain. i just smiled at him and made appear it was a joke while deep inside i tremor to that possibility. my teacher said: it is inevitable. i said: i’m scared, like a child.
one week, and as if everyday i am unconsciously preparing myself for something i don’t want to happen. while everyone was excited about it, here i am, trying to find in my heart that similar enthusiasm. i should be happy, or i think so. (i just smiled to a child and i felt awkward.)
i don’t know what to write from here onward but i don’t feel like finishing this one…
walking along the invisible line 