I’m a twenty-something. That’s a term I hear thrown around a lot, and I didn’t quite get what it meant until I became one. I used to think it referred to age alone, and occasionally it does, but I’ve found more meaning in it now that I have a personal attachment to the term.
It’s tough to explain. Well, it’s probably not that tough to explain, but I don’t have much faith in my ability to articulate what I mean. From my experience, a twenty-something refers to a person caught between adolescence and adulthood. It’s this fucking awkward state of being for me. I’m not in school right now, as most twenty-somethings are, meaning that I’m not surrounded by a group of my peers anymore. Even when I was doing the “college thing,” it wasn’t the same as it was before.
I don’t really like being a twenty-something. I think it’s a terrible, awful thing. It’s probably actually not though, and I just hate it because I’ve managed to fuck it up. I see so many people who are able to make use of being a twenty-something, and they have the time of their lives. I tried that for a while, it didn’t go so well for me. I got dumped miserably, had a run-in with the police, and ended up vanishing completely from the world I used to live in. By choice, I guess, but it didn’t feel like a choice at the time.
Now that I’ve started over as a person, this awkward post-adolescent state has become a horrible curse. I feel out-of-place at all times. I know a huge part of that is my own personal anxiety and my difficulties dealing with people, but that’s definitely not the entire cause. I’m still treated like a kid by most adults (I guess I should say “people,” I am technically an adult too,) but kids don’t treat me the way they used to. I can’t just hang out with a bunch of kids anymore. The thing is, I don’t like adults. Maybe that’s the actual root of the problem. Maybe it’s not that they treat me like a kid, it’s that I treat them like adults. I can’t get past that wall, though.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do as a twenty-something who is starting over. Every single day, I feel like running back to the life I left behind. Honestly, that still might happen. I have very complicated feelings about my old life, and I still kind of love it. I just have some obligations I need to fulfill right now; I have something I need to do.
I don’t know what that “something” is yet, but I sure as hell am going to try to find out.