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the weirdest part is how random the betrayal is. I can still feel spiritually 24. I still believe I have the stamina for a spontaneous all nighter, and the confidence of a person who thinks sleep is optional. But if I sleep one inch wrong, I wake up like a cursed Victorian uncle. My neck sounds like wet celery. My lower back retaliates. Suddenly I’m moving through the day with the careful optimism of a museum intern carrying a vase.
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It’s humiliating in a very funny way because the mind and the body are clearly not coordinating. I think therefore I am does not mean I think I’m young therefore Im young.
My brain keeps saying, we are vibrant, we are flexible, we are still the youngest person in the room. My joints say, that’s adorable, please sit down before something clicks permanently.
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So yes, slowly but surely, we are aging. But we’re doing it with the same energy we bring to everything else in life, which is to say, slightly overconfident and already regretting tomorrow.
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Still, it’s not all bad. We are old enough to know better and young enough to ignore that knowledge for just long enough to make another questionable plan. We know what a bad night out costs now, but we also know it can be worth it. We understand that adulthood means compression socks, stretch routines and back support, but we also know how to laugh about it before putting ice on a shoulder that did nothing wrong.
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