The Question of "Old"

My therapist asked me the other day if I felt finished. I am 24 years old, seeing a therapist- and, I told her, yes, yes I do feel finished. How can I possibly feel finished when I am not even half way to 50 yet? They say that 60 is the new thirty- so how exactly can I feel old?
Old- this is a common ailment amongst 24/25 year olds. People hear that and they roll their eyes at us- old. What does it mean to feel old, and, why do I feel the sting of it now? It is because when you are 25 you are halfway between old and young. Angst is no longer quite right, and man, 50, 30 even is decades away. A 30 year old- that’s really old, man. I feel old, because, well, it is Friday night- and I am sitting here at home typing on my computer. Sure, I could go out- but I am tired. Mentally and physically- being 25 and closer to adulthood, yes, the dirty “A” word- than I ever was before, takes a lot of energy. I have been responsible for almost three years now- the irresponsible days feel like an eternity ago. And they really were, figuratively.
I spend a lot of time driving these days- driving to and from work, driving two and from my house- so I think when I drive, really who doesn’t? It’s like thinking in the shower- many a revelation has come bright and early at 6 am. Most of my musings center on my place in the universe. That is something that hasn’t changed, for about three years at this point, but, damn it, my view sure has. My place has changed, slowly but surely. When I drive, I am of two personalities- I am reckless, I want to drive fast- I want to go somewhere fast. That- she’s still there, the reckless 22 year old- just old enough to drink, ready to try anything
“Oh I don’t know why I go to extremes...too high or too low, there ain’t no inbetweens…”
That was my mantra as a twenty two year old, and it still is to some degree now. But why do I feel so old then? Maybe it’s because, I drive fast, but I am afraid of the speeding ticket, so I slow down….and where the hell am I going so fast, anyway?
Old- I am old compared to my 20 year old sister, my younger sister, who just came back from Italy and is going back to finish her junior year. I am old against her- I feel it sometimes. Old and cynical? Perhaps not that extreme- I forget that she is in her glory days, and, I am jealous of that. To live without regret has always been my personal mantra- but, I think, that I do regret some things- I regret playing by the rules for 25 years.
She will learn her lessons, they all do. A good friend of mine asked me if I thought that he was cynical. This particular person has always exhibited dark traits, so to speak. Cynical, though, is such a strong word- cynical is bitter. Cynical is tainted- being 25, or 26, or 30- for that matter, does not necessarily mean cynical. Those ages, that time- it is the entrance into adulthood- the dirty “A” word. Past the unreal idealism of college, that doesn’t work- and one finds that out, usually in dirty, harsh ways. It is past the sophomore stage, really. Enlightenment is far too idealistic- enlightenment is much further away, if it even exists. Being 25 is gritty; it is getting up every morning, doing the same damn thing, and just getting through it. It is taking pleasure in the brief spurts- those moments, those glimpses where you see something of yourself to remind yourself that you aren’t dead. It is taking those moments, and running with them. Those moments aren’t the everyday reality anymore- they are the romanticized notions of yourself in the past, they really are glimpse of who you want to become. 25- the nitty gritty, the in-between, is the chance to make those notions the reality. Working, day in and day out- but breathing every single day that you are alive- and looking every single day that you are alive. The youthful optimism? Plato’s ideals of love? They are not gone, but changed, into a useable reality. I am not there yet, but I am almost there. Where is there? Wherever I want to be- so I shake hands with my sister, I shale hands with the 22 year old- and say, lets go for a ride. Hang on tight- it will be a few years until you get there.