The Fear And Thrill Of Turning 27

I turn 27 today.

6 - Turning 27

I’m not sure how to feel about it.

Has turning a year older made me wiser? Or is the milestone a mere marker in this bag of more-shocks-than-surprises called Life?

To be truthful, I still don’t know. Maybe life will catch up with me or I will catch up with life. Soon.

But the past year has taught me one important lesson: to not give up once you have a goal. Of course, terms and conditions apply with a big asterisk hovering over them. These goals – the ones you put up on your whiteboard at the top and can’t seem to erase – are too over your level of achievement. Life has done pirouettes and violent MMA-style moves to drill ACHIEVABLE GOALS! (all in caps) into my head.

And yet, the heart remains as cryptically incomprehensible as ever as it sees bright meteors raining down in the future, through all the translucence that shrouds it in the depths of uncertainty. Secretly stashed away wishes, lovely pinpricks of hope, and a radiance that resonates deep within the persona come prancing out of the shell in response to the mind’s investigations into the heart’s dealings.

What would the heart know of heartbreak yet?

How could I tell the heart to aim lower – especially when it is being so uncharacteristically buoyant?

How can I quell the panic rising from within at the mere mention of 27?

After all these years of associating the number with 27 Dresses and a very charming James Marsden, it has finally arrived at my doorstep and all I can do is tentatively gape at the ill-packaged gift (sort of) that is staring back at me with earnest eyes.

My eyes bug – it’s like that saying that has been doing the rounds on the Internet since I don’t know when; something about friends getting married and having babies and posting to social media about it all while I am still stuck on why F.R.I.E.N.D.S ended the way it did. It is not a bad thing, per se, but is 27 just a marker or is it a milestone? I am confused.

Or rather, was.

In the light of recent revelations that my mind decided to spring on me, I realized that what they (debatably varying from person to person) say is true. Age is just a number. Instead of the whirlwind mania that gripped me until not so long ago, I am now calm and composed, descending into a Zen-like state that somehow succeeds in reminding me of what I have, what I’ve achieved, and the excitement of what lies ahead.

I’m sure that the upcoming year will be full of surprises as well as the fair (not so!) amount of shocks. Not unlike last year, which was valid until yesterday. But what is it but just another year of pushing forward? If it does not come upon me, could I be termed human? The dread of 27 comes in, but so does assurance, in abilities, in life. And this time, I know better how to feel about it.

I turn 27 today.

And then maybe some more.

But until life goes on, just hear me out, 27.



Here are a few introspective articles I managed to rustle up in the past year of my life:

Let Me Have This Moment…

Is Courtesy Going Extinct?

And You Call Us Intolerant!

The Oyster I Fell In Love With!


GIF Courtesy:!


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