23

And so i turned twenty three.

Two more years, and I’ll stop counting my age at twenty five.

A wise friend told me, 30 is a scary age.

But I am excited to see just how my life would be during that time.

So there goes the twenty three years of me.

It’s been fun, but it’s not easy.

I’ve never been an adult before, so everything is new to me.

I realized being an adult gives me a lot of things I can and cannot do.

An adult can have a solid bank account.

An adult can have his own post-paid phone line.

An adult can earn money to spend for needs and wants.

An adult should be careful and responsible for an adult can be put into jail, legally.

It’s a cliché - kids are more carefree and adults are worrier.

But this is solid truth.

I now see the stress of life. I now see the cycles.

I am now sharply aware that adults really need to work to achieve the real definition of having a life.

Adulthood offers power, annoyingly coupled by responsibilities.

It’s a wonders, but I sometimes feel like Im a misfit for adulthood.

It’s weird, but it feels like it’s only my skin which grows the age.

Is it possible for the physical being to age, while the bravado remains outdated but young?