I do not know where it is written that we have to get older. But it happens. Actually, you will get older. How you accept it is up to you. And if this was a class, my resistance would earn me an F9.
When i was younger, i scoffed at those women who refused to get older. I assured myself that i would always be able to say my age to anyone, and would accept getting older with grace.
I suppose that is easier to say when you are twelve. What did i ever have to worry about then? Homework? Kai! I wish! No breasts? Got plenty now! Being chubby? Chubby is cute. What i am now is... well. Not cute sha. Somehow, fat at twelve is different from fat at twenty.
So i find myself about to become the women i laughed at. If i do not get my ish together. How to solve this problem?
I simply have to learn to love myself at any age. And stop worrying so much about how much i want to do and how little time there is. And enjoy myself. Because if there is something i have learnt by how much i missed by University days, it is that all you have is now, and you are creating the memories you live on as you age.
Do i really only want to remember my panicking?
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