Whenever my birthday comes, I couldn’t help but ask myself how old I am --- and I’m not even thinking about numbers. Jules Renard said “it’s not how old you are but how you are old.”

But figure this our. I started playing the piano at age three. I could be counted on by my mom to buy stuff she’d want from a sari-sari store a year after. I started having crushes as early as fourth grade. Come high school, when worries of my classmates would revolve around boyfriends and treatments for acne, I already looked forward to a career in journalism and that passing through college looked like a means to an end for me.

In some ways, I feel I’m too old for my age.

Yet in some ways, like when I’d start to wonder why things are the way they are, I feel that I am not even born yet.

Honestly, I may have stopped counting after 25.