ON BEING 32

We all write stories of our lives because we are all fond of story – telling. Each of us has three stories to tell. The first one is when we were young. We wrote our life stories, stories of what we wanted to be, of how our lives are going to be, of what the world would look like by then. It is a story filled with dreams and hopes. It is a story full of idealism and immortality. It may sound like a fantasy and could be dismissed as such but that was our road map of life, one that is steadfastly held. The last story we all write is when we are already past our prime and near our time. By then, we will write our stories. Stories of what we had done, of how it all happened, of how the world looked like back then. Probably, those stories would be full of regrets and bittersweet memories or of triumphs, and challenges that had been overcome. It would most likely be a story full of lessons and sighs about unfinished businesses and dreams. It may sound like an assessment or perhaps a complaint of life thus far and in fact, it is so but it is still the life we by then have gone through nevertheless. The second story we all write is when we are at our prime. We write the stories of our life, stories of what challenges we are facing, of how to shape our lives amidst all that is going on, of the world we are now living. This is a story full of adventure and of challenges and trials. This is a story of how we turn our dreams into reality and of turning realities into memories. It is a story of excitement and of fear, of taking risk and of dreading uncertainty. It may sound like an action adventure story, or perhaps a drama, or even a suspense and is could actually be for unlike the two other stories, this story of our prime is not yet written and it wouldn’t be written in ink but in blood and sweat.
Today, I turn 32 and I’m now in the midst of writing the story of my prime. Hopefully, I could fill many a page in this story of mine. There would be plenty of victories and parties to write about but also probably some frustrations along the way as well and perhaps a few events that could be portent of future regrets. I wish I only had a few of the latter (frustrations and regrets) and more of the former (victories and triumphs) to write but I cannot really tell. But, the one thing I could tell and that is, I’m not going to write this story of mine blindly for I had the story written during my youth to copy from and probably a future bestseller to be written in my old age to worry about.