The best years

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I feel like the best days of my life are behind me.

My head hurts more from a hangover the next day. My body takes longer to recover after a workout. My neck is frozen after sleeping sideways for too long at night. I’m seeing physiotherapist more than before because things ache a lot more, and for a lot longer.

J, my friend from Junior College said, “… you are wiser, fitter, and richer than you’ve ever been in your life. You collected experience over the last 4.5 decades has made you that much more savvy & charming than the next person…”

“Wiser, fitter, richer.” Her words, not mine. I’ll take it as a compliment but none of these can be traded for more time and more chances to do things I never did when I was younger (maybe a post for another day).

J continued over text, “The biggest difference is just the amount of fucks we have to give now…”

I really wish I gave more fucks back then. All of us, not just me. Back when we were younger, when we formed shared bonds of collective teenage stupidity (mostly involving underaged drinking and raging hormones). I wish we all knew that those moments will never circle back again, so we might all hold on a little bit more to those fleeting moments that would pass as soon as we boarded the first bus home the next day. I wish we knew that we will all miss that time when we were there, when we were young, when we had the best days of our lives.

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