Seriously, you remember those awkward moments of junior high, high school, and even college when you just thought, “Goddamnit, I wish I were a real adult,” right?
The idea seemed so great. You make it out of this whole education thing alive and things will get better; the world will make sense; you’ll get a wife, two kids, a house in the suburbs, and a pet dog named Toto; that’s when it all turns around.
Fast-forward to twenty-five, and you realize that all those dreams you had were just bull shit. There’s not another way to describe them. They’re crap. The mythical world of adulthood is just as bad – if not worse – than the one you had growing up, and it leaves you asking the inevitable question that anyone who makes it this far faces: “What was the fucking point?”
If like me, you are lucky enough to be self-sufficient, it just leaves you jealous of your friends who still get $800 a month from their parents to help them live in an apartment they can’t really afford. If you are one of those lucky sons (or daughters…don’t want to be sexist after all) of a bitch who gets subsidized by their parents, you look at guys like me and wish you could just make a decent wage for the 60 hours a week you put in at the coffee shop, bar, restaurant, etc.
There’s no winning either way, which once again brings up the question, “What was the fucking point?”
I went to college to study engineering. I graduated with a good GPA, about two years of internship experience, and now I scrape by doing a job that leaves me unfulfilled and bored at the end of the day. Sure, the money is enough to live on, but when you give up your soul to make a living, did you really succeed? Let me reiterate, “What was the fucking point?”
One of my best friends from junior high got married recently, so I had to ask him about it. Let me preface this by saying that I’ve been single for a few years now, so married people naturally annoy the shit out of me, but I asked him why he did it anyway.
“I don’t know. It felt like she was the one, and I had nothing else to live for.”
Really? That’s it? That’s what my generation does?
Centuries of scientific progress, generations of misguided misogynism, and decades of education led this guy to determine that his best course of action was to marry someone because he “had nothing else to live for.” Once again, “What was the fucking point?”
The last time I felt truly good was when I snorted a line of cocaine with a chaser of cough syrup, and this guy wants me to believe that marrying the right person gave him the same feeling? Clearly this guy hasn’t been fucked up enough. I mean, “What was the fucking point?”
The reality of your mid-twenties is that they suck. This age sucks as much as the last three did. This age will break you more than the previous ones did because now you’re expected to be a grown-up…whatever the hell that means.
You’ll leave your mid-twenties feeling the same way you did coming into them: lost, bored, uncertain, etc., and it doesn’t matter. That’s how we all felt. There isn’t a profound moment when you become an adult, and there isn’t a time when you realize your life has purpose. You’ll still wake up in a few years and ask yourself, “What was the fucking point?”
I guess we all have our mid-30s to look forward to.
“I’m a paradox. I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I’m lazy, yet I’m ambitious. I don’t like myself, but I also love who I am. I say I don’t care, but I really do. I crave attention, but reject it when it comes my way. I’m a conflicted contradiction. If I can’t figure myself out, there’s no way anyone else has.”—Unknown (via imprecisions)