I fear age. My reason’s quite vain, I must admit, but it’s not just superficial – growing older means you have lesser ability to do stuff you want to do. Like achieve your dreams.

My reasons are: not wanting to have my skin age, and get sagging jowls and a bigger waistline; not wanting to have less energy for things; not wanting to have less time to do everything I want to in this world; having to wear old-age reading glasses (it hurts to wear them and crane your neck to look at the computer screen, as my mum tells me); graduating from the most interesting experience of your life: high school/secondary school and junior college/pre-U, whatever you prefer to call it. Of course, there’s also the thing about losing touch with your friends, and not being as youthful as you once were – teenagers/preteens are always better looking, fresher, than old boring adults are. I’ll be quite devastate when I hit 25.

Give me the elixir of life, someone.

Next: death. which will, inevitably come after age.  I’m not so much afraid of death as I am of losing someone to the great beyond. Well, of course, I do wonder what lies beyond, and it is quite troubling to think that after death you won’t even exist, much less realise you don’t exist. Being able to think about things, people like you are able to now and not even thinking after death – that’s not something I look forward to. If anything, I think this shows that the consciousness makes the person. If I remember correctly, this is the opposite of the great law of existentialism – that existing is meaning. Sorry, but I believe that essence provides more meaning than existing ever can. I don’t understand why those philosophers think that way – if existing is meaning shouldn’t they start considering animals as sentient? Which they obviously don’t, because I don’t believe any of them were ever vegetarians.

This afternoon, well, actually, yesterday afternoon, seeing as how it’s now 1.35am, I was thinking about the what ifs if my mum passed away. Awful thought! I couldn’t bear it – my mum is more than my security blanket; she comforts, she teaches, she advises, and she loves me unconditionally, just as I love her unconditionally. I know I’m starting to sound like a mummy’s girl, which I probably am, perhaps, if you go by the “being overly dependent or mooshy on your parents is immature/gross”. Well, I’m just stating facts; I do love my mother. Very much. But I feel bad about not being able to communicate all that affection to her – my family isn’t all that open about love, that is, my brother and I are very close to our mum, but we don’t go around proclaiming our love for her at the top of our voices.  I know I should spend more time with her, but I really also want to do my stuff, and I feel torn apart knowing I should but not doing so because, well because I’m selfish and I don’t think I can last the rest of my life not doing stuff I like to spend time with my mum.

How do people juggle time with their parents and time for themselves? At the dinner table? I usually eat while doing something else, something that’s pretty exclusive – watching videos or reading or listening to stuff to better my language skills. I don’t want to keep feeling this kind of guilt. When I’m an adult and my mum has passed away (NO!) I don’t want to regret not doing something with her, I want to remember my time with her and feel contented.

No matter how close you are to a person, there will come a day when you never meet that person again, and worst of all, you may not even realise on your last meeting that you’ll never see him/her again.

People relations are the toughest to understand and the most heartbreaking, yet we all live our lives every day not even realising what’s slipping through our fingers.