I am 25. I am 25 gearing up for 26. But more like 25 going on 60. Not to say there is anything wrong with being 60, except for the lack of understanding of the up and coming fads and slang. Which I have come to the realization that is the realm I am entering.
I have officially started speeding towards the realm of having absolutely no clue what teenagers are talking about. It started off with “bae“ and then “lit”. Which I slowly grew to understand. However, now we are barreling towards things such as “rain drop, drop top” and “#triggered” and my understanding is steadily disappearing.
The other day as I sit in my office chair, the high school class that took over the classroom in our office started filing out for a little outdoors breather. One of them jokingly said “bitch” to another and immediately looked towards me exclaiming “sorry!”. I quirkily replied with a “watch your language!” before realizing that he did not apologize towards me in a funny way but in the “oh crap I just swore in front of an adult” sort of way. When did I become an adult?! I have officially been viewed as an authoritative figure.
Queue the quarter-life crisis.
Maybe I should buy a motorcycle or get my belly button pierced. I should start hanging around Forever21 soaking in every bit of youth I can. Listen to youths chatting over Starbucks. Ugh youths! I have hit the realm of calling those younger than myself, youths. What is happening?!
25 is a weird place. Asking for bed sheets for Christmas instead of the latest fashion piece. Dreaming of owning a washer and dryer, bigger closet space and a dishwasher. No longer being known as the “younger generation” as I float farther and farther from my High School graduation year.
25 is still wanting to hang out with your friends and go out to the bars, but at the same time also wanting to stay in your pajamas watching Netflix. Being out until 9pm is officially insane seeing as I have work in the morning. And I have developed an actual hatred for the current rap music.
Yet, 25 is great. I am young enough where I am not expected to have my shit together. Though I am super jealous of my peers who do. I have time to figure things out and be “young” even though I feel like I am barreling towards “old”. I am unmarried and no children. I am lucky enough to still have the ability to be selfish and enjoy being 25.
Though 25 being a quarter of my life (assuming I make it to 100) is incredibly daunting. I still have a few more quarters to go. Though I am terrified that I am losing touch with the youths of today, I remember our parents felt the exact same way about us. It’s just the circle of life. And being only 25 involves so many more opportunities and adventures that lie ahead.
Overall, I guess 25 isn’t half bad.