I'm 25 tomorrow, as a late summer born child.
Being 25 is unbelievable for me, because when I was 5, I made a serious conclusion: there is no need to live longer than 25, because life is meaningless.
It's a scientific summary after 5 years life experience including two parts: my life is meaningless, and others's are meaningless, either.
Though 20 years later, I could recall how did I think clearly:
#1 My life meant nothing but the acceptance of "results": as the result of being a girl, there were no attention; as the result of being fat, there were jokes; as the result of being quite, there were ignorance.
I was born to be a fat, quite girl, the world responded unfreindly to my nature, that disappointed me.
#2 Others' "happiness" didn't interest me. My parents were famous tailors locally at that time, and busy having parties other than child-caring at their late twenties (they were at the age of 27). Our house were noisy: kids were running for adults'attention, adults were running for each other's attention.
As an observer, they only made me bored.
Tomorrow, I'll break my 5-year-old-self curse: safely to be a 25 years old adults and view "efforts" more than "results". Of course, my life is still not a fairy tale, sometimes efforts work, sometimes not; sometimes it's good but too late to do, sometimes it's just happy to live.