Premature smugness

Over the last couple of years, I have watched many a friend turn thirty, or twenty-ten, whichever they prefer.
(A made-up statistic of) 80% of them seemed to experience some kind of birthday related trauma/stress/depression.

Many of those who were in a long-term relationship pondered the make-or-break decision, and broke.
Those that were single were fed up of being so and had imagined themselves married or the like, at such an age.

As well as relationship issues, there were the 'I haven't achieved enough' issues, the 'I hate my job' issues, the 'stuck in a rut' and the 'haven't seen enough of the world' issues, to name but a few.
The general feeling was that time was moving fast, running out if you like, and that 30 marked the milestone to worry and then do something about it.

As for me, at the age of nine and twenty, I dismissed these concerns and was convinced I would be part of the (made-up statistic of) 20% who didn't care. It's only a birthday after all....isn't it?

Hell no. I am one month before the aforementioned date and I have spent the last week worrying. Worrying about all the things that I mentioned above. A lot.

This launch into the next decade is suddenly terrifying and more importantly, I am poised ready to plunge into it alone.

My friends were all right and justified. Turning twenty-ten is positively horrifying.