26

Last week I went to view flats and at the second flat we went to, the agent who greeted us asked, "Who is the buyer?" I said, "Me," and he stared at me and said, "Huh?! So young? How old are you?"

Asshole.

Anyway I was thinking about it today and then I tried to move on to the next part of the memory, which was my reply, but then I realised that I'd forgotten my age. I couldn't remember what number I gave him because I honestly forgot how old I was. The first thing that came to my mind was 26, but then I thought, no... that's too old. I'm 25, right?

Because a couple of years ago when I was 24 I kept thinking I was 26 so lately I have a tendency not to take myself seriously when I think about how old I am.

But no. I really am 26 now.

Oh my God, you know. Jonathan Safran Foer had his first book published at 26. Zadie Smith too, I think. What have I done with my life?

Ok so I just had this will-we-ever-make-something-of-ourselves conversation with Joon the other day and we resolved that quite peaceably but obviously this is not the kind of thing that you just put to rest and never think about ever again.

What it is, really, is a widening chasm of fear.

Sometime back I said I was tired of waiting for life to start and back then I thought life would start when I got married and I got my freedom. But with marriage looming I am starting to realize that marriage is not the freedom I thought it would be. It’s so foolish to have thought marriage equated to freedom in the first place, but that’s what you do when you live in a prison – you feed yourself hope, even if it’s based on a lie.

Would marriage give me the life that I always thought I wanted? Maybe not. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel as if I am living life the way I want to and not dictated by someone else, or other people.