Maybe I mentioned it before, but it’s worth mentioning again (repetition is the learning’s mother). When I was 20-21, I said something to my mother. She looked at me with disgust mixed with a lot of pity and said “Andi! You are the eternal teenager. You’ll never grow up”. I smiled, despite her expression, and thanked her. “No, Andi, it’s not a good thing”.
Now I know she was right. It’s not! I always felt very old and, at the same time, very young. I used to believe that teenage years, youth years are the true ones. We are true to ourselves, to the others, to our ideals. I understand and always did understand the value of adult age – it makes life in society more bearable, we (should?) learn to control our mouths, we (should?) learn to forgive, to see problems from other angles, to know that life is not “black and white” but a million colors.
I feel left behind. Indeed, I did age and maybe, at 35, crushed by responsibilities and hard work, I was older than I am now, at 42. Yet, I was never able to forget what it is to be young and while I carried my load with the responsibility of adulthood, I knew it is NOT RIGHT. There were (and still are) times when I didn’t have time to read, time for myself, time to enjoy life. Yet, I never forget that it shrinks me as an individual and any time I have the time, I read again. There were times when I didn’t listen to music (maybe in the car, without paying attention to the rhythm or the words) and didn’t dance… but always I miss them all and try to do both as often as I can. It’s not like I don’t feel old age creeping on me – I have fixations, I tend to experience the same things that brought me joy in the past, I cling to principles that maybe are not valid today… yet, exactly because I know that this is old age, I fight it and kick my ass to do new things, enjoy variety.
I feel left behind. It hurts me in the dating world because I am becoming a weirdo. People of my age, obey their responsibilities, real or imaginary, love in moderation, don’t put all their eggs in the same basket, don’t make romantic, extraordinary gestures because… because life showed them that it’s not worth it. They have now experience. I am sure that in their eyes, I am as weird as a 16-year old is to his parents. I am attractive and interesting for a while, I give salt and pepper to a night our or… in ;-), but, hey!, we have to go back to our thing.
I still believe in the huge, romantic love, the ones that knows no boundaries. I still believe in cross-country trips on a motorcycle, stopping at night by some crappy motel, with all the bones aching. I still believe in short and abrupt turns in life. I still believe in laziness, in creative and deep-thinking laziness that makes time to expand and let you feel the life in its entirety. I know the mirror, the pain in my left knee, are telling me that I shouldn’t believe in all these things, that they are gone and buried. I just can’t help it. I guess my mother was right. Weird animal, lost in the wrong herd.