I turned 33 a couple of days ago.
someone said that age is just a number, every year is more of the same. I'm not sure if they meant it as consolation or as a way to induce depression.
to me, age is neither.
every year is different. new joys, new sorrows, new strength, new fears. planned changes, unplanned changes. planned achievements, unplanned achievements (yes, it's actually possible to have unplanned achievements!)
the world changes the mind and the mind changes the world... if you want to.
some things that used to push me forward don't cut it anymore, and i have now found new things to motivate myself with. some more real, some more abstract, some more grounded, some more crazy.
some plans are set in action, others are discarded.
time elapsed increases, and the time left decreases. but not proportionately. every year makes me wish for more. more of more. one lifetime used to seem enough, when my ideas were few and fuzzy enough. not any more. I wonder if it's cyclical, and i will start reducing my appetite for the future at some point, to reach zero at the moment I gracefully slip into oblivion... but i don't see how that could happen. maybe that'll be one of those surprise achievements. or maybe my greed for the future will turn into an all consuming madness that will turn me into some sort of monster. but i would probably burn out well before that. or maybe my mathematical mind doesn't fully grasp that life is a river, and i'm meandering into an ocean that I don't, and possibly never will see... until my final breath.
but either way, one thing is for sure.
it will never be more of the same.