Last night my friend asked me what I am planning to do for my 21st birthday later this year. I replied that I'm not planning anything big or rather I'm not planning anything at all to be honest. I see my 21st birthday as being just as special as my 20th birthday and my 22nd birthday.
I did often feel sad remembering back at my 'lack' of achievements as yearly birthdays crept by. I became terribly afraid of my future. But I've come to realise that it isn't the future I am scared of; it is the idea that time will run out. I am made to believe that things should be done by a certain time; that I should have a career by a certain time, a place to settle down by a certain time, a family of my own by a certain time. Man created a means to count time and I've now learnt to stop counting. What better way to live a wonderful life than that where you make time count instead of counting time.
At the end of this year, I have to make a decision as to what I want to do for the rest of my life: to enrol in post-graduate law school in order to make my parents happy yet make me bitter and blue, or to jump into my love of full-time photography and make my parents disappointed and heartbroken. For months this decision was poisoning the happiness that used to curve up my lips. Being asleep was my favourite part of the day because time stopped for me then. And then I finally realised (oh how did I not realise sooner?!) that I'm spending my days killing time when time itself is slowly killing me.
So until the time arises for me to make that dreaded decision, I will take each day as it comes instead of dwelling in fear of what is to come.
Tomorrow isn't even on my mind.