When will I stop feeling like a teenager? I turned twenty last month. As a kid, I always admired this age. The age of Barbies and princesses. I would imagine myself as an independent girl, living with friends in a big city, and now that I have that life, it seems like the most normal thing to ever happen. I thought I would lose my mind over having the independence to do anything I ever wanted, and that I would party like a frat dude. But suddenly growing up doesn’t seem like fun; it seems like responsibility.
How to take care of myself, how to do laundry, and how to not skip meals and prioritize my sleep at the same time. On top of all that, I also need to figure out how to earn money by doing something I love. First of all, everything I love is not gonna get me money in the long run. And secondly, for the people who are gonna say that—” Oh, you can earn money in any field just by being the best”. You see, that’s the problem, Cassie, I’m too old to be the best at anything. I mean, sure, I can try and become an exception, but the truth is, in today’s world, people start early.
Truth be told, I had more anxiety anticipating my 20s than I do experiencing it. Now that it’s here, it doesn’t seem like a big deal at all. Because I still don’t feel like I’m old enough. Turning nineteen scared me more than turning twenty. I had the burden to enjoy and live life to the fullest before I left behind my teenage years, but now that it’s over, it sort of feels surreal. Like, what changed? What was the hype about turning twenty? I still hold the same morals and opinions, conduct myself the same in society, cry like a five-year-old, and laugh like a maniac.
Twenty has weird connotations attached to it. And personally, it sounds a little awkward as well—nineteen is a huge deal because it’s your last year as a teenager, and twenty-one is important because—well, let’s just say it’s monumental in a legal aspect. And then we have twenty—awkward and socially anxious, still trying to figure out its personality. Basically, the wallflower of the ages.
A lot of my friends are still nineteen, and they teased me a lot about being older. It bothered me before my birthday because even I felt that I was getting old, but now that I am twenty, I realise how unaltered my life is. I get more offended by the fact that some of my nineteen-year-old friends are more mature than I am (I will never accept this in front of them), because am I not supposed to think like a grown-up now?
A part of me refuses to grow up, refuses to let go of my Ostrich Syndrome, refuses to stand up for myself, and also refuses to be the bigger person. I just never know when to stay silent and when to use my words like a weapon. But maybe that is also a part of growing up, right? Right? Maybe this confusion is what being twenty actually feels like. I’m lowkey nervous, but I know I will figure this out, and thankfully, I’m not alone in this. One thing I did right in these twenty years is choosing the right people. Oh well, maybe I am mature.