I am twenty five in five days. I am sat on the floor; with an (two) empty wine bottle(s) at my hip, punching the air enthusiastically to the silence from my headphones.
I catch myself in the mirror and realise…fuck Kirsty, you’ve not changed since you were 15.
That’s ten years (for those paying attention); my surroundings and circumsatances have changed significantly, almost entirely, and my experiences of friendship and love are just brimming due to all the incredible people I’ve met along the way.
But me, at the core, am exactly the same. I’m still the same person who spent her Saturday afternoons snorting Lucozade tablets on Tesco carpark because there was nothing better to do, though now the Lucozade tablets have been swapped for Skinny Lattes and Tesco car park for Brick Lane. Eurgh.
I remeber really enjoying spending an evening alone listening to music, drinking, smoking and singing in entirely my own company because it was something that young people did.
‘Have another gulp of your two bottles for £5 wine and turn the 60s prog rock louder because you’re just so young and free and hurt and you really do emotionally connect with Nick Drake.’ (Knobhead Hulse, circa 2009)
But when does it stop? I don’t want it to. I’m not ready – I still feel 15.
I recall, all too distnctly, going for dinner (I would’ve said tea before) and talking about where I would be when I was 25. I pictured this groomed, collected woman with glossy hair and an organised sock drawer.
I don’t even have a sock drawer.
I think the beauty of getting older (I am not saying for a moment I am getting old) is the realisation that my personality and hobbies were cemeted years and years ago.
I’m not a teenager, or a young professional, or a career woman, or…fuck knows – none of that.
I have realised, however, that I will at the core always be the same person; air guitaring to Janis Joplin and air banjoing (it’s. a. thing.) to the Dixie Chicks 4evz. The frequency of these instances will likely fade – but it will always be part of who I am.
And that’s bloody lovely duck.
Plus, as my mum once told me – Age is a privalidge denied to many.продвигать сайт