March 31+1, 2017
It’s my last day of 41 years old.
How am I feeling? I have no idea.
After certain age, maybe some time in my 30s, I stopped counting and thinking about my age.
Maybe I’m physically getting old, but I really don’t feel that I am getting old. It’s just another day of my life.
It’s not that I intentionally avoid talking about my age, it’s just not that important.
Funny, I am from a culture where the age is very important and people’s attitude toward each other is decided by their age, and here I am not caring a bit about the age. I even despise it when Koreans ask me how old I am as soon as they meet me for the first time.
Well, who cares?
Your age doesn’t decide what kind of person you are.
Your age doesn’t decide how mature you are.
Your age doesn’t decide how experienced you are.
I have met a lot of people in their 30s acting like immature kids, and some teenagers who look considerate and thoughtful.
The thing is, we are all expected to be in certain social status in certain age, so I guess I am way behind considering my age, because I don’t have family with kids, nor my own house and car, nor well paid position at work.
But, why am I not feeling anxious? Why am I not worrying about my future? Why am I not looking for those security? I really don’t know. Maybe I am super immature???