A pre-life crisis relapse.

Normally it does of course take me a long time to get through all of my Valentine's Day correspondence - I told everyone to donate to charity this year instead, and the Unmarried Christians In Their Late 20s Hospice was only too glad of the help. I had ulterior motives, of course - because I'm going to end up their in but a short matter of time. Because it's BARELY 3 MONTHS UNTIL I TURN 26. This is old - it actually official. Because at 26 you cease to qualify for any kind of discount with the words 'student' and 'young person' in them. I will officially be an adult. A single adult. A single adult who still lives with his parents. In our society I couldn't get any worse unless I was a 60-year-old woman with lots of cats.

So, to recap - approaching my late 20s, hopelessly unmarried singleton, living with my parents, don't have a job.

I often speak of my pre-life crisis and people often ask me what on earth I'm talking about. Well, this is it. Personally I blame society, for parading an endless array of successful 19-year-olds about the place, forcing me into a series of educational upgrades because everyone else is doing the same thing, filling my head with ideas of limitless potential which becomes extremely limited when it comes to realisation.

I feel like I should give up before I've begun, because there are always younger, more attractive, smarter, harder-working, richer and more attractive people being churned out of wherever to fill my place. I'm nestled on the top of a slag heap of forgotten generations, pondering my options whilst they dissolve in my hands. I should point out at this point that on the axis of dramatic versus depressed I am firmly on the side of the former.

But that's only going to last while I'm still getting my discounts...