I’m writing this as I stand in line waiting to board a train that is being incrementally delayed. A departure that should have happened 15 minutes ago will now happen 30 minutes from now – or so they have reassured us time and time again. And so we wait.
I’m not one to believe in New Year’s Resolutions. At least not when it comes to quantitative resolutions. The cynical side of me knows that I will never be the girl who counts her daily water consumption or the girl who regulates her sleeping schedule to a T. I’ll leave that to those with more patience. Instead, I prefer the ‘vague’ resolutions; the ones that aren’t necessarily measured by defined units.
It can’t be that uncommon to make plans with a friend, only to never execute them for the following three years due to busy schedules – or so I tell myself. As young 15 year olds, we had excitedly drawn up the perfect sleepover plan filled with Teen Vogue readings and Animal Crossing. Yes, we were indeed still at an age of certain naivety, in which we relished in more infantile entertainments. And to be entirely honest, I still have yet to outgrow my childish ideas of fun. (Watching some of the adults around me, I don’t believe there is a deadline for that.)
“Let us be young”, I want to say. Let us allow time to slip through our fingers, because only then might we realise just how precious it truly is. Perhaps these regrets were meant for us to realise that time is not something that we are in the power of controlling. Perhaps being idle is part of youth.