So I was listening to The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell, and it's one of those songs that just give me goosebumps when I listen to it.
The song's about a boy growing up, and while listening it suddenly hit me out of the blue.
I'm going to be eighteen this year.
I'm getting OLD.
Oh goodness. After 18 I'll be 19, then twenty. No more teens. After 20 comes 21, and I'll be considered an adult.
I'm already doing tertiary education.
I really can't believe I'm so old.
I know it sounds stupid, after all eighteen is barely old. But I can still remember how I felt like as a small kid, a kid of seven, eight. Ten years ago.
I still know what I thought about a decade ago. If I think, I can project myself into ten or so years ago, I still remember shit.
It's creepy.
I used to think eighteen was fuckdamn old.
Twenty-one is only three years away.
At the rate my years are passing, three years will be over in a heartbeat.
Every year just passes faster and faster for me. It's already May. Almost half the year gone.
And it seems like just yesterday I was bitching in secondary school, falling down stairs and shouting 'fuck'.
Hell, I can even remember starting school in Melbourne, or primary one in MGS.
Now that's long ago.
I don't want to grow up, to take responsibility, to work, to support myself financially.
The idea of a nine to five job just scares me.
The very hint of it makes my stomach clench.

I think too much.

This is what comes of being bored and staying at home on a Sunday afternoon.