The Number 13

When I was much younger, I always thought that being older was better.

Whenever I asked to sleep late, my mother would say: “Wait until you get older! Then you get to decide what you want to do with your life.” That statement always made me feel impatient. I would always wonder — why couldn’t time move faster?

But as time passed, I realized something—time had never waited for me. It had always been moving forward.

From my perspective, things started to change. Skylines grew taller, streets became busier, people started to change, and growth started to happen.

At some point it began to feel strange, it was as if some mysterious force made me think deeply, too deep.

The older I became, the more I started to notice something I had never considered before: life has a start — and an end. Suddenly growing up wasn’t about achieving freedom — it was about becoming more and more aware about how temporary the things around me are.

But something clicked on my 13th birthday— as though a light switch had been flipped.

Though it wasn’t the best birthday I’ve ever had, it made me realize something: to appreciate life for what it is.

I started to look at things differently. At the outskirts of the city, where communities settled beyond the concrete— I saw warmth. Whenever I failed an exam — I begin to ask myself what I could’ve done differently. When I noticed my self envying someone — I started to ask myself why I felt that in the first place.

At night, I would gaze at the sky — as though the distant stars beyond our solar system held some kind of hope.

In the morning, I would search for the first ray of sunshine instead of looking for a place to hide.

I spent years wishing for time to move faster; now, I only hope to notice it while it passes. And that is when I finally thought to myself: the world has been growing, growing beside me.