I thought that by age 27 I would have figured out what’s good for me.
I imagined that by now I would have attained a zen-like state of positive nonchalance. Or at the very least, I would have developed the self-discipline or good sense to eat the right food, exercise regularly and sleep before it’s technically the day after.
But nope. Still nothing – no existential enlightenment, no healthy lifestyle, no heightened awareness of what’s good for me.
Oh god, growing up to be a non-dysfunctional adult is tougher than I thought.
This is the part where I insert random hilarious anecdote concerning men / work / life’s bitchiness in general a la Bridget Jones, but hooray for you (or not), I ran out of humour earlier in the day and for some unfathomable reason am also low on that neurotic fuel I usually run on.
Then again, considering that I’m typing this out at 330am on my phone, in the dark, may be telling of whatever deeper issues (imagined and otherwise) I may have.
A more probable explanation may be that I overslept this morning and drank too much coke at dinner.
But I’m sticking with the deeper issues story. It sounds more intriguing than over-sensitivity to caffeine.
I think this is much more than enough for now.