I wonder if there's any point pretending to be young anymore?
I should just deactivate my crawling-with-kids-born-in-the-90s FB account, shut down my twitter and just accept the aging process.
For, though years, events & milestones have hinted at the creeping of adulthood, I have refused to acknowledge it.
I have loved, have lost, got married, got jobs, changed jobs, experienced unemployment, traveled, been through hairy situations, but nothing dented my supreme belief that I was still invincibly young.
Until yesterday that is.
I can't remember a time when I didn't know who Michael Jackson was. He was the one pop sensation who my parents completely condoned. They played his music for me when I was a tiny tot. They bought me his albums. They listened with me to Man in the Mirror and declared it thoughtful. They even agreed to take my sibs to his concert when he hit dubai ('cause I was way too cool to hang out with sibs at a concert).
And now he's no more.
And I am sad, for now I have aged.