Today I feel like the onion that Sandra Cisneros writes so poignantly about in ‘Eleven’. I feel superbly peeled today. But the peeling didn’t happen today, it’s been happening for as long as I can remember. I would just like to commemorate it today. All these layers of age on me are wearing me down. And not because these layers are tarnished by regret and guilt but because too many of these layers were allowed to be occupied by too many people, all of whom are strangers to me today. How I wish all these ages that I am today: 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25 are all mine and mine alone. But I share it with too many people or one person who appears to be like too many people.
I recognize my 16 year old self today with shame and hostility. Does that mean that I can peel off my 16th year and flung it away? If I was 16 and 25 today I would have not done many things. But maybe why I am 25 today is because I did those things. 5 years down the line, I may look back at this post and wonder if there was any difference between my 16 year old self and my 25 year old self. That’s what is so crazy about the age and the onion thing. That it makes invisible, the borders between layers and it becomes hard to separate the two.
That’s all there is, I feel as pointless as this post. I seem destined to make the same mistakes but just at different ages.