Quarterlife

Lately, I’ve been in the mood for reflection and writing. There are many things going on around me, and writing them down is the only way to keep track.

In this post, I rant and rave about my age. In long and winding paragraphs.

Turning 22 gave rise to a commotion in my head. I’m baffled at how when I turned 20 and 21 I didn’t quite feel any different, but now that I’m 22 I sense something’s changed. That change, whatever it is, hangs in the air like mad that it almost feels tangible.

Before midlife comes quarterlife crisis, and this is it, or something somewhat like it.

I already feel so old. People may say I’m still young, but no, I already feel like I’m running out of days to live, and that’s not even figurative. There is an unspoken and looming pressure reminding me that at this point in time I should be doing and doing if I ever dare wish to accomplish so much, not even asking if I am up for the challenge.

I have goals, yes. The thing is, I don’t act on them. Not yet. As of this moment, idleness has gained sovereignty over my mind and body. It’s like my career and ambition bound self took a detour for a hiatus. More than a year has passed, and there’s not one progress whatsoever in my life. But really, I just don’t know where to proceed with this clusterf*ck of a life. People think it’s simple, but it’s not. And because I have no idea what to do, I choose to detach myself from the issue at hand. To put it bluntly, I procrastinate; to cover it nicely, life stalls me.

This is that age where fantasies begin falling to pieces. This is where I start realizing that some dreams of mine are far-fetched. And this is not being hopeless or pessimistic, just realistic. I must begin to narrow down my long list of aspirations, so that later on it would be less heartbreaking. Hard truth and tough luck go hand in hand these days.

By now, I already know where and what I want to be. It’s just that I can’t figure out the how of it all. How do I become what I want to be and how do I get where I want to be? It’s always questions. More questions. And no answers.

Also, at this age, after everything that has come and gone, I’m still scared of walking this world. It’s too big for me.

That is the initial overreaction to the added year in my life – nothing but a bad omen to a future that would be even worse. But now, the more I reflect on it, the lesser it becomes depressing and the more it gets stimulating. Maybe it’s just PMS bribing the inner whiner in me the first time. There is actually a brightside. Some sort of a silver lining.

Hormones are acting up again, but this time I see all things in bright and upbeat colors. I start to rave.

I’m 22, and I’m free to do almost anything. I’m at that legal age where I CAN do a lot in life on my own freewill, trivial and life-changing matters included. And now that the parents have loosened up and are more often found in the sidelines, the final decisions are mine to make. If that’s not freedom, well, I don’t know what is.

I’m 22, and I live for the now. I feel so full of life. I’m not yet too old to easily get tired just thinking of going out for an adventure. On the contrary, the thought of it makes my adrenaline spike to an all time high. That thing the youth of today always say, YOLO? I totally dig that. I’m 22, and spurs of the moment are my thing. An equally energetic company is all it takes to sustain the full-blast fun.

I’m 22, and sometimes it’s matter over mind. Whenever I feel like it, I decide without thinking. There are moments when it feels good to not think things through and just leave everything to chance, because being always sure about one’s self can bore the life out of a person. Sometimes I feel I’m making more sense when I just trust my instinct and play along life’s surprises. Sometimes it’s all about letting loose and being silly.

Putting the last statement in consideration, I’m 22, and I’m still allowed to be stupid. I’m at an age where foolishness is tolerated but not recommended. Sure, I’m already expected to act mature, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I’d go back to being that happy-go-lucky and innocent teenager every once in a while, or more often than that. It’s fun, you know. There is freedom in naïveté.

That being said, I also have to assert that curiosity is not yet overrated. There’s still so much room for knowledge. In fact, my hunger for learning is stronger now more than ever. I feel that my grasp for meanings and ideas is at its prime these days, and I want to use and abuse it while it lasts.

I’m 22, and there is pleasure in not doing anything. Bumming around all day seems like a good life mantra. Sometimes when problems come up, I just ignore them for a while there. I let them hang a bit and enjoy life as usual. I’m the only one who’d suffer the consequences later on, so I might as well delay them. It’s also noteworthy to know that there is a different kick I get in doing things that do not matter, and that I find even more enjoyable.

I’m 22, and my problems now are much simpler than the ones I’d be facing when I turn 30 and 40, so there’s no need to sweat the small stuff. The real problems are not about to come up anytime soon, so worrying this early won’t get me anywhere. Living life fully is the only logical action to follow now. Procrastination is an ever recurring disease.

I’m 22, and the love I’m getting from family and friends and God is unyielding. It’s surprising what a strong support system can do to someone. Yes, I crave affection. And yes, I bathe in it. I think that’s reason enough to not feel bad about anything at all. With this in mind, I also wish to meet more people and grow in understanding with them. Human connections will forever fascinate and intrigue me.

I’m 22, and dreams and goals keep me going. I have a vision.

All these are the clutter that has been bringing confusion in my head for a while now. When they just pop out of nowhere at random instances, it’s hard to know what to make of them, because they don’t look like they make sense even when they do. The flaws and upsides of being in the early 20s may jumble and contradict each other, but they just either complement or spice up one another. Now that I think about it, I see that it’s actually just a phase in this ever changing life, perhaps an interesting one.

Understand that a 22-year-old’s state of mind is like a kaleidoscope. All there is are patterns confusing and erratic, but people look nonetheless because they are colorful, interesting and delightful to the eyes.

To simply explain it, this is the writing of a 22-year-old girl.

I’m anything but consistent.