Twentysomething

We are at a place in our lives where we're all just trying to figure things out. We're past the stage of total structure, with school and parents and societal expectations dictating our lives. We've come to a point where we can afford to make mistakes and sort of stumble through our own murky ideas of what it means to be happy and alive and successful.

Does success mean proving yourself by moving to a new city and "making it" there? Or does it mean finally doing what you love? Is happiness measured in the new things you discover about the world, or by the realizations you have about all the good things you already have in your own world? Or is it both?

Should we feel like failures for not diving in to the grand adventure that is impoverished life in the big city, or should we feel enlightened for recognizing that what we need right now is right here, and that the big city can wait?

Should we work long, hard hours trying to save up for a better quality of life, or should we take long, meaningful walks trying to discover a better quality of being?

We are all sort of meandering through fields of thought and indecision, hoping that something that "feels right" will jump out at us. But what about all the "what ifs" and "maybe I should haves" hiding in the grass, waiting to trip us up and bite at our ankles?

We find comfort in the fact that we are all in this together. Our paths will cross and uncross, and sometimes we will find ourselves on the same road, each of us taking turns leading the way.

But we have more than just the questions. We have youth and energy and potential. We have ideas-- some good, some laughably bad. We have music, literature, and art. We have long discussions about life and where we're going (and where we've been). We still get excited about things like Smash Bros Night and pizza for breakfast, and we are starting to learn the value of family and what it means to be responsible.

We've dreamed and dreamed and dreamed, and sometimes those dreams have come true. Sometimes they have changed or evolved or dissolved completely. And sometimes they have gone away and come back. Sometimes we go away and come back-- but this time stronger and wiser than before.

We make Pokemon references and play drunk games of Risk, but we always wake up on time to nail that job interview in the morning. We consider Kraft Macaroni and Cheese a meal, but sometimes we break out the pots and pans and make stir fry.

We start looking forward to the little things: our first breakfast in a new apartment, late night discussions about art in 24 hour coffee shops, sleeping in on the weekends. We make lists of all the things we need to do: weekend road trips, movies to watch, that-one-thing-that-you've-been-meaning-to-do-but-just-haven't-gotten-around-to-it-yet.

We tell each other bad jokes and learn to accept people we might not have accepted before. We do nice things for our friends because we want to. And some days we wake up and decide to blow all our money on video games and a lifetime supply of ramen noodles. 

We're in the happy place between childhood and adulthood, where we can still have fun but we have learned to appreciate the fun we're having.

If you had asked me a few years ago where I would be right now, I would not have predicted my current situation. And despite all that has changed, I have never felt more at peace with myself. I used to focus on whatever comes next, but I'm slowly starting to realize that what's happening now is just as important, just as real, and just as wonderful. To steal from an old cliche, it's not always about where you're going, but how you got there. And I'm getting there my own way, surrounded by the best company I could ever hope for.