This morning, as I traveled to the office, still a bit tired and slightly dazed by the return to the normal weekly routine, I checked that I had not cut shaving.
Suddenly as I looked closely I noticed a detail that had escaped me until that moment, my right temple is now overrun by white hair and the left is quietly following a short distance.
I'm not talking a couple of hair, but a group of large and independent enough that I spit in his face the sad truth: I'm getting old.
I think it is a sad evidence, so incredible that coincides with my 30th birthday. Even in less than a month I will do thirty years. Normally I do not give weight to these targets, but under certain circumstances inevitably reflections. I refer not so much age but the shift to new responsibilities.
personally do not know too many differences, except in some cases. For example, I can not stand most evenings with good friends, to dispose of the alcohol use more time and I started to limit these experiences. They are more thoughtful and less impulsive than before (I'm getting wiser).
There is no need to make a play for a bit of white hair, but it's kind, maybe a minute to think about it but then it bothers you a day at the point of writing a post.
What matters is that you only accept and understand that it is a simple path your physical, only that.
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