Tears and fears and getting old

I remember at primary school, when the grade seven kids used to help us cross the road, and I remember thinking that,
wow, I'll never be that old and that tall and possessing of such flowing locks.
And then, all-of-a-very-sudden,
time just creeps and flies and stomps and then
and then
I am nineteen.
Hey, I have friends who are older. But if you stop and think, it seems that time is coming. That 'real life' is approaching. School-life is almost removed from reality: you follow this same formula for 13 years and it is everything. Nothing else exists. But then you break from this repetition of teachers and classes and lockers, and everything is there for you. The world is waiting.
My sisters are getting older and my parents are getting older, and my grandparents are getting older.
At a tea with all my great uncles and aunts recently, you can notice the ageing. You can see that they are more stooped and more deaf and maybe they have Parkinsons and maybe they have dementia. I'd never been to an old age home before, and I think it might have been the scariest thing. There are so many people, even closer to dead than alive, and their skin looks thinner than paper, and they seem to be melting and drooping. I wish I could know how all of them were when they were young and glowing and lithe and possessing of verve and passion. It was a scary scary place, I felt tears pricking breaking, at the atmosphere at the smell, at the shrunken people.
Ageing makes me want to do more with life. It makes me want to see everything and be everything and find some hunk to sweep me off my feet and onto a white and majestic horse (kidding, I hate horses). But you know.
University is getting crunch-y, things are getting srs. I am not allowed to get mascara in hair and on face anymore and also no food in hair. Food on jumper/assorted clothing is also not considered adult, but is only considered cute when aged 5 or under.

me achieving my dreams (metaphor)
(from nytimes)