Now I’m twenty three, and I listen to a lot of Van Morrison.
When I’m twenty-four, I’ll finally learn the periodic table.
When I’m twenty-five, I’ll buy more new stationery than is necessary.
When I’m twenty-six, I’ll buy myself jonquils as a housewarming gift.
When I’m twenty-seven, I’ll make awkward small-talk at my 10 year high school reunion.
When I’m twenty-eight, I’ll think I see you on the street but when I get closer I’ll realise I was wrong.
When I’m twenty-nine, I’ll rediscover this blog and laugh at what a wanker I sound like.
When I’m thirty, I’ll feel really goddamn old.
When I’m thirty-one, I will have forgotten the periodic table.
When I’m thirty-two, I’ll still remember you.
