Ok fine I'll tell you anyway. I slept earlier so now I'm up, supposedly being productive (not a sexual metaphor), supposedly doing all the backlog that was due ages ago.
I'm up now, thinking. 18 years have passed and what have I done with my life that is noteworthy, that is worth a standing ovation. Nothing. Yes you say that I expect too much of myself, but I don't. See the paradox here: I am disappointed I have not contributed exceptionally to my gene pool, but at the same time, I never expected to. Where is this ambivalence coming from? Is it Hesse or Jungian theory?
18 years have allowed me to feel a kaleidoscope of emotions. It has given me a taste of estatic victory (Jaiho!), deep infatuation, utter disappointment and even betrayal. The nostalgia at 2am on a Thursday morning only reminds me of the ephemeral, because anything else wouldn't be befitting of a teenager whose hormones are on speeeeeed.
Snow Patrol's songs are catalytic in nature as well. The Run's and You Could Be Happy's make me want to Set the Fire to the Umpteenth Bar so that I can just burn these away. These, being the memories of failure, unsound decision and opportunities that flew over my head.