My appetite for reading is as insatiable as ever, and I’ve recently devoured a host of coming-of-age titles, from Barnes’ The Sense of an Ending to McEwan’s On Chesil Beach and a whole lot more. One overriding theme I’ve stumbled upon is this idea of young adults waiting for their life to start, and by the time they realised that it started long before they were even aware of a beginning, it was all close to over.
I’ve evaluated my own thought process recently and realised that I too am guilty of this. When I think of the future there’s movement and progression which doesn’t feel tangible or even real, but actually I’m very much amongst this movement, right now.
Because I’m living at home, in my first job, it feels like I’m waiting to move out, waiting for the next thing, but when the next thing comes I’ll just be waiting for the next without ever stopping to appreciate the whirlwind which feels so incredibly static but is invisibly thrusting me into the unknown, every single day.
My life has begun, is passing me by, and is gasping to be seized by the horns and ridden in a direction I want it to go.
Now I’ve accepted and understood this I’m going to embrace it. Rather than look ahead and mentally countdown my life like a prison sentence I’m going to make productive use of myself, emotionally and ambitiously.
Here’s to 2019, not the year my life begun, but the year I realised to relish it.