Adult

I’m not quite sure when I became an adult, but it was fairly recent. I always thought that I would be one of those people who can’t seem to grow up. For some reason, I feel like we’re taught to glamorize that way of life. Like, should one be proud of the fact that they have no idea how to pay their own taxes, and never even heard of an IRA? Should I be completely aloof about my credit score? Why do we feel the need to romanticize the infantilization of our lives?

I guess it is because youth is fleeting and fun, but I think that it can be fun to be an adult. In fact, I would even argue that it is kind of better. I have never felt more relieved and a little naughty than when I have spent an entire weekend partying, knowing that I have responsibilities. Then I get another kind of satisfaction when I take care of those responsibilities in spite of hangover and exhaustion. Having the freedom to make your own decisions, your own mistakes is what we yearned for all through adolescence, so why is it suddenly not enough.

Granted, I am new to this adult thing, so maybe I don’t have too much standing in the topic. I’m only 22, I live with my parents, my best job prospects are somewhat bleak. Very soon I will have to start paying back thousands of dollars in loans with money that I don’t really have, and I don’t have any real idea of what I’m doing with my life. Being an adult is stressful and scary and kind of awful, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

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