Workaholic at 15

After some deep introspection, I’ve come to realise that I am a 45-year-old trapped in a 15-year-old’s body.

You see, I have always been a careful and responsible person, regarded by every older person by ‘wise beyond the years.’

I think that translates to boring.

The most exciting part of my morning is eating a warm bowl of oats with sliced banana. Every morning. The exact same thing.

I do all my assesments and homework on time, and I actually ENJOY doing them.

I set early bedtimes for myself and I stick to them.

I’m literally self-employed. Literally.

I’m constantly in the middle of a mid-life crisis.

I am literally a 15 year old workaholic. That depresses me.

I have never allowed myself to be my age, instead, I’m in constant competition with myself to see how I can out-do the me of yesterday and I’m beyond sick of it.

Life doesn’t have to be a rigid set of rules. It can actually contain adventure, spontaneity, rebellion and a little bit of immaturity.

I’m too busy being an adult that I’m letting the last years of my childhood slip through my fingers and swirl into a depressing abyss of responsibility and taxes.

I’m so proud of myself, and I value and applaud my achievements and maturity.

But at what cost have they come?

As I have recently discovered, the cost was the most tragic of all.

My youth.