Growing Up




I don’t want to grow up. It’s a stupid concept. My best friend got married yesterday, I was the best man, and barely had time with him. He already lives in a different city, he now has a wife, kids will come sooner or later, time with him will get more and more scarce. Maybe once a quarter, once every six months, then once a year, maybe during holidays.

I’m moving to Hong Kong. I wanna move around more. I want to make movies. All these things will take me from him as well. We are growing up. No wonder so many married couples only have 2 friends.

I guess that’s why we fortify our friendships when we’re young, so they can survive when we’re older. This also brings up the point of making sure your spouse is your best friend x 100 and is ridiculously cool. It’s just you and them.

When we ask people how old they are, sometimes they grimace. Sometimes they make you guess. And when they say the number “36” they always say it with regret, as if growing old is a bad thing, something in their control. Which it’s not. We just go around the sun again and again. And get older. And people move away. And people change. So that’s why it’s back to being in the moment. Being present. Cherishing now. Because that’s all we have. And it should be enough.


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