this is 29

My first impression of the High-Speed Rail in Taiwan is how smooth it is.

So smooth that it’s hard to believe that it’s moving at a blazing 185 miles per hour — yet, it is.

When I arrived at my destination, all I could think as the train doors started to open was: “wow, here already?”

Yeah, already.

This is what 29 feels like; it arrived a lot sooner than I thought.

30 will no doubt feel the same, as will 40, and I imagine every subsequent year of life.

It seems that no matter how much time passes, it never feels like enough.

My joints will start to ache sooner than I’d like.

My time with the people I love will be shorter than I’d like.

My ability to do adventurous things will end sooner than I’d like.

I feel lucky to have made this observation sooner rather than later because lately, a part of me has been screaming: “hey knucklehead, quit hesitating and do things that matter with the people that matter now! Time isn’t waiting for you!”

If I’m not careful, however, this will just be another cute, fleeting moment of wisdom that doesn’t get put into practice.

Instead, I hope this voice will get louder with time.

I hope I’ll get better at listening to it — or, better yet, I hope it becomes the only one I listen to.

I hope I’ll stop being held back by worries about what everyone else will think of me.

Maybe after I’ve had the audacity to do enough things that scare me now, I’ll eventually have more things to look back on that I’m proud of rather than regretful of.

If I can seize enough of my remaining time, if I can make enough of it feel well spent instead of wasted, then maybe that time will eventually feel like enough.