One minute, you’re a ten-year-old messing around at home during COVID, and the next you’re a year away from applying to college. Like… When did that happen? Where did the time go?
Suddenly, you’re expected to figure out your future, write the next chapter of your life, and be ready to survive in a world you’ve been sheltered from your entire life. It feels like being thrown into the deep end before even learning how to swim.
And what’s even more confusing?
We’re constantly told we’re too immature to make real decisions… Yet somehow, we’re expected to have everything figured out.
Make it make sense.
I can't believe how we were all in this hurry of growing up and being an ”adult”. This glorified prospect of indepence seemed so desirable but when you're at its crossroad all you yearn for is to go back to those pure, carefree and innocent days of childhood to savor that feeling one time. A period of life where everything was sunshine and rainbows, unbeknownst to the trials of life and the only portent thing was playtime, when happiness was so easily found in the small things in life, when the unexplored world seemed to be full of adventure.
I understand that “adulthood” is inevitable—it's portrayed as a set of concrete milestones which determines whether the life you've led or leading is “worthy”. When you are young, your choices are detrimental. You have room for mistakes but as you grow up these decisions have irrevocable effects on life which seems so daunting.
Perhaps the scariest part is realizing that where you end up is entirely in your hands—and no longer something you can blame on someone else.
