但让我们把这点弄清:人生最好的年华不在未来,而是当下——此刻我们的一部分,今后只会不断地重复,我们搬到纽约,搬出纽约接着后悔我们来过或没来过纽约。我三十岁时还想开派对。我老了之后还想精彩地活着。任何时候我们提起最好的年华,总离不开那几个老掉牙的前缀:"早知道就…如果我…要是我…"
but let us get one thing straight: the best years of our lives are not behind us. they’re part of us and they are set for repetition as we grow up and move to new york and away from new york and wish we did or didn’t live in new york. i plan on having parties when i’m thirty. i plan on having fun when i’m old. any notion of the best years comes from clichéd "should have…," "if i’d…," "wish i’d…"
确实,有很多事我们都后悔没做:该读的那些书,那个住在隔壁的男孩。我们对自己相当苛刻,正是为此才这么容易让自己失望。偶尔睡过头。偶尔拖延。偶尔投机取巧。我不止一次回想去高中时的自己,不禁感叹:我怎么可能做成那些事?那么刻苦,我是怎么做到的?内心隐隐的不安全感和我们形影不离,也许会伴随着我们一生。
of course, there are things we wish we’d done: our readings, that boy across the hall. we’re out own hardest critics and it’s easy to let ourselves down. sleeping too late. procrastinating. cutting corners. more than once i’ve looked back on my high school self and thought: how did i do that? how did i work so hard?our private insecurities follow us and will always follow us.
但你要明白,我们都不完美。没人在他们想醒来的时候起床。没人完成该做的阅读(除非是那些获奖的狂人....)我们对自己的要求那么高不可攀,也许一辈子都没法成为想象中完美的自己。但我们都会平安无事。
but the thing is, we’re all like that. nobody wakes up when they want to. nobody did all of their readings (except maybe the crazy people who win prizes….) have these impossibly high standards and we’ll probably never live up to our perfect fantasies of our future selves. but i feel like that’s okay.
我们这么年轻。如此年轻。我们才二十二岁。我们有大把大把的时光。有时我会有这样的感觉,派对之后孤身一人躺下,或是选择放弃之后把书本打包走人时,我们都有这样的感觉——那就是太迟了。别人早已遥遥领先。比我们更有前途,更有潜力。在拯救世界这条路上比我们走得更远,他们在创造,在改进。现在再开始一个开始实在太迟,因为我们早该坚持下来,早该启程。
we’re so ’re so young. we’re twenty-two years old. we have so much time. there’s this sentiment i sometimes sense, creeping in our collective consciousness as we lie alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out—that it is somehow too late. the others are somehow ahead. more accomplished, more specialized. more on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. that it’s too late now to begin a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.
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