I spent a whole Thursday with my friends, some of her cousins and friends of her cousins to a local theme park. The party consists of four 20-year olds, two tweens and four teenagers. We spent the day planning on screaming our lungs out while trying different rides on the park. But there’s a condition: I’m a scaredy cat. The thing is, every single of my friends who are my age are the same.
It’s not only our apprehension to height, speed, swings and twists that held us back, but our fatigue kicked in and even one of my friend uses his ‘rising cholesterol level’ as a reason to back out of rides. Us, the 20-year olds, spent most of our time eating (we ate at three restaurants and bought multiple snacks on the go) as being on the rides are too scary for our mentality and to our physique: the pounding heart, the anxiousness, the headache. While we were complaining and sitting out our rides, the youngsters rode the roller coaster multiple times in a row and asked for more while laughing, maybe at us for being a coward.
It is then when we raise the question, “are we old?” Entering an age number that are now wholly different, we felt the pressure we had never felt before. And what is to blame? Our age. The number. If we were on the edge of being 19, what will be blamed is the condition that “we’re not feeling it” — but aging seems to be a better excuse by the time we entered the big two-o’s, a defining new age.
Both amazement and jealousy went through our mind: how can the youngsters be so energetic? It is ironic as we should’ve been enjoying our times spending a good effort on fun activities with our supposedly youthful energy. Yet the chance to have something to blame on becomes a good excuse. Maybe in reality we’re just too lazy, too unenthusiastic, or annoyed with the child-spirited vibe coming off of a theme park. Or instead our screw got loose and being less daring comes out of the fact that we are more aware of risks and consequences, be it a part of growing up.
This is just a written concern coming from the four of us, which we thought of while enjoying a portion of beef bowl in the conditioned room while the teens and tweens are running around having another try of a tower-drop ride. This is so bothersome, but we had already spent a whole lot energy screaming our lungs out during the time we rode a boat through a doll house.
Is getting old(er) a truly scary thing?