I always assumed that when people got older, they at some point starting feeling like their age. Now that I’m 40, on the verge of turning 41, I still feel like an immature 22-year-old who likes cartoons and laughs at fart jokes.
If I do live to be 70, I still won’t consider myself old, in the same manner in which I don’t currently consider myself middle-aged. I’ve vowed to continue driving fast, never to hold up lines in the grocery store and to refrain from complaining about the thermostat.
I won’t lie: turning 40 really screwed with my head despite my denials as such leading up to that milestone birthday. Now that I’ve had a year to mull this over, it’s not so bad. In fact, I feel like I’m at my peak in so many ways, especially with a career that I truly enjoy, and a revived interest…
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