It's strange. I stayed a child until I was 37, 38 years old. Full of innocent hope and post-pubescent anguish. Lived in the same place for 30 of those years, did very little except write poetry that nobody wanted to publish.
Then the person I lived with went crazy, I fell in love, moved house, changed jobs, had a breakdown, recovered, changed jobs again, lost her love, changed jobs again. And now I'm about to move for a second time.
After such a slow start, the last four or five years have been bloody exhausting. I'm 42 and I feel like I'm 108.