Age induced fear….

I was getting off the tube this morning when some dude came over the mega speaker and told everyone to evacuate the building immediately. I soon found that I was running, well, sprinting out of the station. I pushed over some young children and  abandoned my croissant on the escalator in a desperate attempt to get the hell out of there.

As I made it out through the barriers safe and alive, my mind fluttered back to the last time this happened. I was a teen and on my way to some night club like China White with a girlfriend. We were tarted up in white leather boots, belts (which we thought were skirts), and Wonderbras. It was Christmas time.

We were hovering in Green Park when it was suddenly announced that there was a murderer on the tube. Rather than run out of the station we decided this would be the perfect time to have a cigarette on the platform. So, we lit up a Marlborough Light from our ten pack and chugged away; the murderer slowly making his way through the carriages.

I was not remotely scared.

But, NOW I am terrified. I freak out at the idea of walking around Shepherds Bush late at night. Before I used to do it wearing nothing but a bagel in my gob. Ignorance was bliss.

But getting older, I have started to realize the world can be a pretty shoddy place. Furthermore, as time goes on I want to live more. My mum always bangs on about it – despite life getting worse with age, you can’t help but want it more.

When I was having fun as a teenage chav, I didn’t care about anything, particularly living. Suddenly, I care. I am now trapped by the fear that it might all end. Perhaps I was a bimbo before (you should have seen my hair) but I was free….

Growing up eh? But it’s not…. it’s just growing. I am definitely not going up anywhere at the minute. In fact, the thing that terrifies me the most in this new fear-filled reality is becoming an adult. I was busted for this by my American cousins the other day. They all have their kids, houses, dogs and jobs. They tuck in, whereas I still feel sad when my Dad doesn’t come to tuck me in.

Anyhow, we were waiting to go on some family adventure when I asked them which ‘adults’ were coming. They turned to me, with a look of confusion. ‘Grace, I think you are an adult now… you are nearly 25’

They are probably right. But, I don’t want to clean my house, buy a plant, and pay bills. I am too scared. Too scared to be young and free and too scared to be responsible.

What a mess!