Twenty-five is a weird age. At 25, you’re too old to be a kid and not old enough to be a seasoned adult, so where do you fit? Somewhere in the middle, I suppose. Mid twenties are confusing. For me, most of the people who surround me that are my age, or younger, have kids and are content with their lives right where there at. I am happy for them, but I can’t imagine having a kid right now, and I think it’s mostly due to the fact that I don’t FEEL my age. I still feel five years younger, but in reality I’ll be 26 in less than three weeks. How the hell did this happen? I remember my 21st birthday as though it were yesterday. Granted, I am not the girl I was when I was 21. I’m not even the girl I was a year ago. I’m just in this weird, transitioning phase of life where I feel like there is a ton of things I’m “suppose” to be doing, when I don’t really want to do any of it.
I don’t want kids right now, that much I know. I’m not ready and it doesn’t even sound appealing at this stage in my life. I don’t want to stay in Texas forever, either. I want to travel America, spend more time in Arizona, explore the things I can’t take my mind off of for even ten minutes of the day, and get out of my comfort zone. I want to quit day dreaming and actually live the dream. I’m working on it, believe me. But it takes time to assemble the life you want, and depending on what exactly it is that you want, it requires money, as well. I haven’t quit my day job, but I spend lots of time wondering how I’d ever get by if I did. I have plans, a vision. But I know in my heart that it is not time to set that plan into motion quite yet.
Twenty-five’s been good to me, though. I did get a great job, I married a wonderful man, we bought a house together, and I have grown into a woman that I never fathomed could exist within my vessel. Yes, I have changed, and am constantly in metamorphosis, but I cannot escape the thoughts that weigh me down. “Is this what it’s gonna be for the rest of my life?”, “Do I just exist to wake up, work, and go home?”, “Am I running out of time to have kids?”, “Do I even want kids? Or does everyone around me expect that from me?”. Many of us are only one diary entry away from drowning in our own thoughts and desires. It takes a lot to confront those thoughts and desires, bringing them to the forefront of your mind.
At this age, we merely exist in a limbo-like manner, succumbing to the truths of reality even though we all swear six-ways-to-Sunday- that we will never “conform”. Unless, under some extraordinary circumstances, you live on a yacht and are afforded a life of luxury for whatever reason, I feel like I’m not wrong when I say none of us are truly living the life we dream of, regardless of what your Facebook status is. I don’t mean to come across negatively, I am doing the most to simply be honest with myself. Yes, I love my house and I’m thankful for my job, but if I know me I know that I am never satisfied. I always need to discover, to explore, or to venture out. I don’t necessarily care to make more money or to stay in Texas forever, I care to fulfill my imagination. I want to go where my thoughts take me.
It’s strange, because when I was a kid (I may have mentioned this before), I hated change. I hated travel. I didn’t understand why people branched out or tried new things. Now? All I can think about is my next adventure and when I can take it, preferably without anyone asking questions or probing me about why I feel the need to be on the constant move. It’s just who I am. It’s what I do now. I’m not the same girl I was when I was a kid and I won’t be the same girl 5 years from now.
At this age, we struggle to make ends meet. Sometimes my check is spent before it even hits my account. It’s fine though, it serves me right for having nice things, which I’ve worked for and so has Clint. Times get tough every now and then, but what’s the worst that can happen? Better yet, who knows? One thing I have grown to hate is plans. I’m not a planner because I am a spontaneous type of person. I am the type of person who could wake up one day and say “Let’s go on a road trip”. But thanks to this weird transitional phase of life I have wedged myself into, I can’t exactly fulfill that spontaneous desire all the time. It’s not all bad, though. I do things that make me happy elsewhere and it helps me take my mind away from the things I can’t change at the moment.
At this age, we are broke, tired, and only half-sober. We aren’t the brightest. We damn sure don’t have all the answers. Yet, it feels as though the most is expected from us. Listen, I’m not here to knock anyone who does have the P’s and Q’s sorted out. I applaud you. I’m just admitting my own discrepancies as a young adult in this vast, empirical, money-machine we call a ‘world’. Nothing makes much sense to me at this age, but I’m not going to try to offer apples when all I have is oranges.
It is what it is, ate this age. Life is weird, at this age. Times are tough, at this age. You’re still trying to figure things out, at this age. You’re still trying to find out who you are, at this age. There’s a lot of pressure, at this age.
And to think, one day we will all look back and wish that we were back at this age, for even one more day.