Last week, I was 22. When I woke up in the morning, I found out that I did not change a bit from last year. I am still incredibly childish. I want to feel like I’m mature but in reality I don’t think I am. When everyone was wishing me for my birthday, it kept me reminding that I’m not a teenager anymore.
Teenage was a wonderful endeavor. I miss those embarrassing moments in sex-education classes where they teach about using Condom. I love riding my small bicycle. I miss those small talks with my father about what I wanted to do with my life. I can not find stupid excuses like headache, and fever for showing up late now. My small job does not allow me to do so. I don’t want to be childish, but at the same time, poking questions like a child is something I don’t want to lose.
Most people would think, when you turn into twenties, you are magically expected to do all the things on your own. You are expected to get your own job, settle and start earning money. Occasionally, you might meet someone–who shouts at you—‘Your’e not a child anymore’. You can not ask for small favors. Your parents want you to grow, when pretty much you’ve done until now will not give you any experience in life. Life looks like a horrible bumpy road with no obvious path.
In our fabulous educational system, you don’t meet so many people while studying. When you go out there into the world, you will be bombarded with diverse personalities and characters. It feels like an exceptionally difficult job to survive in this world. Someone has to take a blame for that– I propose our book based, GPA based education system as a main culprit. Most of the time, I wish my school and college had done something different to give me the experience that I needed in my life. There is a second culprit in case anyone wants to dismiss the first one– I shamelessly propose Technology. In the good old golden days, communication was not this fast. Face-to-face interactions gave people a lot of experience how life can be.
Yeah, that pretty much sums up my experience now..!
I’m expected to be more mature, to act intelligently, to start my PhD, to earn money, and settle. My hidden childish character is suffocated due to this monumental pressure.
I wanted to change that. I write this blog. I want to travel to nice places, because that is what mature people do. I present myself with some small gifts because I can feel mature about doing it. I watch movies which are artful, as mature people like art. I read good books for the same reason. This transition is so confusing–Am I doing things because I wanted to be mature or am I becoming mature by thinking about doing these things?
I’m into the beginning of my twenties, which is a difficult period. Life at this moment is very exciting and dazzling. Yet, when I sleep at night, sometimes this thought kicks into my mind–I’m no longer a teenager. And, that makes me gloomy.