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age

January 10, 2014

Thirty three

Another year older. Another year wiser.

Or at the very least, another year older. Thirty three. Twenty three-year-old me is laughing at me and calling me an old man. Thirteen-year-old me is too busy playing with his Legos to pay me much attention. Three-year-old me has absolutely no concept of his own mortality (much like twenty three-year-old me and thirteen-year-old me). All three are completely deluded in the notion that they’ll be young indefinitely and have all the time in the world to “do something.”

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