When you are young, you imagine yourself being different when you grow up. You imagine that, by then, you will have had enough time to fix all of your foibles and hone your skills, and be whoever you wish; to meet the greatest people, to read the greatest books, to cheat death, and laugh with the devil.
It’s not until you get older that you discover what aging is really like. You exist just as you have always done, and life passes in glimpses; things change, and suddenly you are formed — an individual with opinions and, to some extent, a personality.
No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don’t.
The rest of our adult lives are spent making up for the time that was squandered during our most precious years.