Becka (miss_rynn) wrote,

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Of feet and food

Jade. A night of DDR with matcha_pocky and astro_dust, followed by dragging the battle-ravaged lady back to my house and feeding her and bishi_wannabe. Dinner and conversation (or, rather, gossip), which was grand.

Also, the fine quote about me after a particularly bitter comment; "we should mine you for the crystalized hatred you produce". Which is funny, because it's true. This follows a comment last week (from morsla, I believe), also about me, which was; "No, she's not jaded... she's made from solid jade."

It's true though, amusing as it is. I have become in the past three or four years quite bitter and jaded. 'Quite' is probably an understatement. I'm not sure the old me would like how cynicle and bitter I have become, how little wonderment I view the world with any more, or how I mistrust all things that appear to be good on the outside... but the new me doesn't care that much.

It is a little sad, but oddly amusing at the same time.

Age. So it is finally going to happen. I'll be hitting the quarter of a centuary mark. It saddens me a little, not because I feel that I am getting old, but because it marks the end of an era.

It used to be that I was the little one, the baby, the surrogate little sister and the honarary mascot. I saw all of nuwishas_tail's friends (who were my friends as well) turning 25 and thought, that's so far away. All of those folk, some of whom I still have contact with, all looked out for me and took care of me, partly because they are nice folk and all, but I don't doubt that most of them wanted to take care of the kid-sister figure I represented.

When I first went to uni, there were many people there who took this point of view, I think, and for which I am thankful. I mean, christ, I was 16. I had no business being at university with all the booze and the partying and the lecherous third years wanting a fresh piece of JAFFY tail. I couldn't drive, even if I wanted to, so people always made sure that someone drove me home. I wasn't interested in drinking until I hit 19 or so, but there were always people who also weren't drinkers to keep me company and - to a lesser expent - keep the drunken louts at bay.

But I realised when I recieved an invitation to greenwytch's Hen's day thingie that those days are dead an buried. I'm not going to know anyone there and, at first, I thought it would be like all those other times I met people more closely associated with my brother than I - I'd be the little sister, the one that people humoured and talked gently to, who was looked out for and treated with a kind of familial fondness. But then I realised, I'm not a child any more. I'm not even the awkward teen, full of thoughts of poetry and poems of thought, angst-ridden and too smart for my own good. I'm going to walk through that door, and I will be seen as a woman.

A woman in my own right, fully formed and filled with my own life experiences, my own knowledge, my own personality. A clean slate, if you will.

It's kind of scary, really, to not be able to ride nuwishas_tail's coat-tails any longer. But at some stage in my life, I guess I have to branch out on my own, and face the world with my own shield to defend myself, and my own sword to fight my battles. It's strange.

I never felt this impending sense of responcibility when I turned 18, nor 21. I don't know why 25 should be any different. Maybe because it is the last milestone I saw other people reach when I was young, rambunctious and full of life.

I think I am afraid.
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