.jump the gun.

so i've decided, apparently, that i'm 26 years old. this isn't true: i'm 25. i won't be 26 until december. but i've heard myself say, on multiple occasions, during painstaking monologues about the timeline of my life, "i'm supposed to single, i'm 26" and "how can i have it all figured out? i'm only 26." in my head, i've made a chronological leap.

i do this every year. i think i was only 24 for six months before i proclaimed 25. it's a coping mechanism, a kind of "get it over with" strategy for aging. if i'm already 26, then i don't have to keep worrying about turning 26. this is supposed to eliminate my anxiety. but 26 is not old. 25 is not old, nor is 27. i have years of insulation from any age that connotes wrinkles and infertility and regret. and that's really what i'm worried about, bodily decay and missed opportunities. i don't want to be one of those 45 year olds who pumps their flesh full of poison and laments old times.

so if i want to cut to the chase and get aging over with, i should probably just dig a grave and jump in. it's a surefire method for nipping death in the bud. just get it over with.