Will you still need me will you still feed me, when I'm twenty four

In two days I will officially be twenty-four, which to me means I will be out of my early-twenties and dipping my toes into my mid-twenties, but also able to just slightly tip my head up and catch sight of my late-twenties.
(Erica calls twenty-four “So young” and will probably smack me for my whining, so I guess it is all relative.)
But I panic because I am crazy and I have/do/always will feel life slipping by in a quick way that I cannot handle in my brain. We only get one chance at each day and after that it’s gone forever, and that is a thought that stays with me always. (Pills anyone? Just throw them at my face and I’ll grab whatever I can.)
I can’t even grasp how people can spend days laying around in bed, or watching TV; the idea is so petrifying to me that I get panicky just thinking about them and how I can help them get outside and seize the day. I am big on doing things, feeling complete, worrying that others are not feeling complete. I write it all down, I take pictures, and I tell stories. I need to know and to feel that what I am doing is a forward motion, something that makes my life better and that I will never look back in sadness or regret.
Regret is a word that I cannot stand in the least. (A little Dr Seuss for you.)
This is probably why birthdays mean a lot to me, even after twenty-four years of having them.
And although I feel like someone is pushing a glass window down over my head when I think about getting older, I actually (maybe for one of the first times) feel good about this past year. It’s odd because I am so neurotic that I am even hesitant to make that statement. But that is how I am feeling—yes it is in waves, and only when the waves of panic pass, but for me, this is really big.
Sure there are things I would change and goals I have not yet attained. But this summer has been really wonderful, and for me, walking into my twenty-fourth birthday sort of feels… okay. Okay with a big side of panic and unsure tension, of course, because hello I am me and I don’t want to have to take my life more seriously and think about things like job security and adult relationships and savings. But still, I feel… ready? It was like this summer has allowed me to feel this way and for that I am truly grateful. I feel prepared to take the next steps that I have to take to achieve my goals for twenty-four.
Plus, in a way, twenty-four sounds like a very sexy age.
“Hello, yes, I am twenty-four, what’s that? My table is ready even though I didn’t make a reservation? Of course it is. Champagne? Sure I’ll have some.”
It sounds more grounded than twenty-three, which can still have connotations of…
“Hello, yes I am twenty-three and, what do you mean you don’t serve onion rings here? What’s that? Okay yes, sometimes I throw up after I’ve had too much to drink, what does that have to do with anything?”
Anyway, I’d still rather it not have come up so quickly, but since it is here, I guess I’ll try to take it in stride without my head blowing up. And as I make everyone do (Some more begrudgingly than others) I shall muddle over my goals for twenty-four.