The morning air is tinged with a silver chill that wasn't there before 2 days ago. September gently seeped into August, but the doors of summer have been abruptly slammed shut. I am not prepared for Fall. I've been dreading September, because it meant that cold weather was coming, and I absolutely hate cold weather. Subconciously I"ve also been dreading september because it means that its been a year since I started my job, which means I'm not allowed to hide behind the "new employee" excuse, and will have to own up to the fact that there is still so much at my work that confuse me. This September is also the first time that I don't have a new semester, a new job, or new beginnings to anticipate. Month rolls off by month, and I keep track of time through the weekend activities I have to look forward to. Is this the start of the rest of my life? I'm turning 24 in a few weeks, one step closer to mid-twenties. Those in their later twenties are clinging to their youth so tightly, I can almost see the tearing in their nails. I see it on their faces, the battle that rages as they race against time, race against the soft, barely percievable wrinkles, the ones that only appear when they laugh or smile or when they analyze their pictures or reflections in the mirror. I don't want to be that person, but it seems so inevitable. Already I'm glaring at my reflection, wondering where that extra crease on my face came from, whether that acne scar will heal regularly now that my healing abilities have been on the decline. I worry that my unexplanable metabolism will suddenly cease ot work in my favor, and I will start to gain weight at rates I can't control, thanks to 23 years of eating whatever I want when I want. I worry that I will look back in my twenties and wonder what the hell I've accomplished, whether I've wasted my life away on dreams that I could never bring myself to fulfill. I look at my mother, and I never ask her what she did in her twenties. She never told me. I have a feeling she doesn't know, and doesn't want to admit it. I have 6 more years to make something out of my twenties, something beyond the grade increases at my work. At this rate, do I have enough time?