Turning 25

Its a wonder how I got this far, bumbling about in the universe blindly and wishing for an alternative reality. There are so many questions I have unanswered, and so many ideas for stories left abandoned, that if I was to shake off all those lingering thoughts, and each one would peel off and fall like a leaf around my body, I would be chin-deep in a pile of thought-leaves.

 Turning 25 for me is an achievement, a reward, a test, a commitment, a choice, a decision as well as entirely out of my control. If you have walked with me through most of my life, you would know what I mean. 

However I remind myself that 25 is only on the cusp of being 26, and then 27, and as the world keeps turning and I keep dreaming, my expectation of life gets lower but my expectation of myself increases, and I feel as if I'm heading towards a slow-burn break down, where I'll have candles, a jacuzzi and a glass of sparkling apple juice, I'll just slowly submerge myself into frothy bubbles, all the stress fading off into the edge of the bathtub where they pop like the bubbles in the froth against the smooth porcelain surface. However I digress, cryptically but yes, the focus is on creating and re-inventing myself and I am claiming diligence and punctuality as my motto.

However sometimes, when my reverie of drifting souls and camisole has burst like an array of fireworks, and I've let out the water from the dream of popping stress bubbles and mock champagne, I dream of a time when the love of my life and I can sleep in peace, within arms reach, and not have to have this long distance between us. 

I dream of pancakes in the morning and smoked salmon at tea, I dream of long gaming sessions in the living room over the weekends. I dream of Saturday nights which involves a game of Risk, nacho chips and apple pie, and well...I dream of home. My home, with her. 

So yes, 25...is an interesting number to turn into, but its the change that I am really pining after. One day, I hope to finally attain my dream.