I’m 18, and I’m too old to care
I’m 18, 18 and five months; yes, I have been counting.
I’m 18, 18 and five months; yes, I have been counting.
We count our ages, afraid to be past our prime, wondering if we’re normal, wondering if we’ve already arrived at the stage of life that we’re “supposed to be” in. We wonder if we’ve achieved the benchmarks that the people of our age group fall under; if we’re further ahead or behind; or maybe, we hope, we’re at least right on time.
I’m 18 and already too old. But what am I too old for?
I am too old to care about what others think of me, people pleasing a habit I no longer harbour. Old enough to know the only person I need to focus on pleasing is myself, someone who learned young the importance of loving yourself.
I’m 18 and too old to feel the need to “prove myself”, I have nothing to prove and no one to prove myself to. Anything and everything I do I do for myself, because I want to, because it brings me closer to my dreams; because it makes me feel happy and fulfilled. I already make myself proud. Think and feel whatever you want about me, go ahead. I will do the same for myself, think thoughts separate from yours and the world’s. I am both too old and too young to feel shame for mistakes I made when I didn’t know better, or for not bending myself over for another, to be in positions of discomfort to make another person possibly feel more comfortable, for I am a person too, and I am the person most important to me.
I’m 18, too old and too young to care about what other people think of me, to analyze or internalize the looks they give me when they look at me, the judgements they have in their minds of someone who is not me, but only a figure of their perception. I am too old to believe someone else’s definition of me when I hold the dictionary, that is a mistake for a younger me, who I love but no longer am. I have learned my lesson and I’m too old for that now.
I’m 18 and too young to never again make a mistake, and for that, I will always be too young, but I’m grateful. I’m grateful that at least now, I am too old not to learn from them. I am too old not to try and be more compassionate with myself, more compassionate with the younger me. Too old to worry about the future, too old not to trust that I will be able to deal with any challenges that arise, and not just rise above them but learn from them, and become even wiser. I am too old to forget that healing is a journey, not a destination; self-care a lifestyle, not an isolated moment, not time you allocate to yourself only when you’re on your last straw and teething on the brink of dehydration. Too old to forget that being kind to yourself; being disciplined to your self-promises, are guidelines that will allow you to live your life to the fullest. Even if I have been too young to not need reminders of that, I will try to remember them now, and one day I will hopefully be old enough to not need reminders anymore.
I’m 18, months from 19, 20, years from 21, too old to measure my path using measurements inapplicable to my own journey, too old to choose shame over compassion; learning to choose the present over regret.
I’m 18, grateful to age, with no comparison, only compassion. Age is not, and has never been competition.
I’m 18 and grateful. I’m 18 and growing.
How old, or how young, are you?
[Written by: Ruby. Edited by: Teoh Jin]