24

In a few hours, I'll turn 24 years old. 24 does sound much more mature than 23. And I don't like it. The phrase '24-year old boy' also doesn't sound right. I've always hated growing up. Growing up means more responsibility and somehow I had figured out this as a kid. People who know me might be a little surprised as I would have been one of the responsible ones in my group of friends, but I guess I have an inherent desire to be the mischief maker. But I guess now I'm too old for it now. Damn! I've always considered myself too old for mischief. 

Pre-birthdays are opportune times for pondering on deep questions like what do I want from life in the time to come.  At this moment, the thing I need most is stability. I need to be at one place and know that I will be there for sometime. I need time. Time to have a proper social life. Time for myself. Time for the people I love. 

But more urgently, I need something for my headache. And a vacation please!

I seem to have turned quite needy. I like it. I've hardly demanded any birthday gifts from anyone. I've mostly answered in the negative whenever my parents or friends asked if I wanted anything for my birthday. But this time, I have my wishlist ready. Unfortunately, what I want cannot fit in a bright colourful gift-wrapped box.

Anand