Tick Tock.

In two days, I am another year older. I joke about it with friends, making fun of the age related meltdowns some of our mutual acquaintances have experienced, relying on the use of the phrase “in my day” and cringing at the realisation that the first profile picture we posted on facebook preceded smartphones by years too plentiful in number to admit.

But while I exclaim my lost youth to anyone who will listen, a part of me feels.. okay. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and is really the main blessing of growing older. Each passing year used to feel like I was kissing goodbye to myself at 21, the age where we are commonly persuaded that the world is at our feet, at 25 the age where we are finding the job we want to do, the man we want to marry, the place we want to live. It felt like I was hurtling towards something and nobody seemed to tell  me exactly what. Here is what I have learnt.