Only 22

I’m not only 22, dear sir. Too “young” apparently to know what I could possibly want. There are cells in my body that were born yesterday, created from materials 6 billion years old, being used again and again. There are pieces of me that have lived their entire lives and died and been reborn within me. My skin and my brain and my blood crawl with newborns and the dying. Every second that I have been alive the universe we are able to see and experience grows. It is 22 years bigger than it was the day I was born. So don’t condescend to me, o ye wise 26 year old about not knowing who I am or what I want. I am not merely 22, but completely 22. My whole being is not wrapped up in some arbitrary number counting down the days since I hatched towards the day I will die. It is the present moment and no more, and right now, it wants you.