At the fruitful age of 21, should I be worrying that I’m falling behind on that fast spinning wheel of life?
I am a first year, I turned 21 in my first term, a measly two months after my university life began. I kept asking myself, am I too old? Am I too mature? Am I too boring now?
Ex-students and current students protested, “No, no!” There are plenty of people at my university who are your age!” And “Na, see it as a positive, use the Freshers’ naivety to your advantage! They’ll be so eager to drink, they’ll buy you drinks!”
Now from what I’ve gathered, most freshers seem to have the following priorities: Drink. Party. Sex. And all the while, relishing on those important words bestowed to all, or at least a vast majority of, first years: Just a pass. They will keep using these three words as a guideline, a commandment almost, in their student bible, to help guide them through very important decisions such as whether or not to go to Hey Ewe or FND.
And for me? Yeah I suppose, I’m only human…
However, there’s a reoccurring, contrasting adult-like thought which keeps popping up, and I find myself from time to time, going into this hazy dreamlike state pondering over my current “loose” lifestyle and comparing it with my friends’.
Friends who are getting engaged like it’s the next must try thriller rollercoaster at Alton Towers. Friends getting married, dropping like flies off the single’s list. Friends popping out babies left right and centre. Unavoidable.
Like an automatic tennis ball launcher, and me, a single player, defensively trying to bat off these scary “big girl” duties. I guess I should be grateful, for these balls are inevitably going to come harder and definitely faster as I reach my mid-twenties.
Constantly, Facebook’s reminder, statuses about what a cute little performing monkey their new drooling pooping machine is. You can’t help but freak out a little whilst putting yourself in their Mummy and Daddy shoes. But at the same time, I wonder if I should be on the similar commitment path now? I’ve got time to ponder.
Next time Facebook shows me another baby bump, I’ll try and think, each to their own… right?
I am only 21, aren’t I?
