Adult Life Is Hard

It is here again, this feeling that makes me want to flee.

Back to the hearty breakfasts, the sounds of honest laughter, Grandma’s hugs and the sweets that would drop from her hand to yours under the table. Days of simple happiness and sadness wiped away with a single kiss.

Adult life is so cold. It is a time when even dreams become burdens that stack up on your back. Dreams depress more than they encourage. They serve as reminders of all you have not accomplished, because you’re what, 20, 23? And you’re nowhere near where you thought you would be. Nothing is going to plan, nothing is going right. You don’t even know what you want to be and somewhere along the way, you’ve lost sight of who you even wanted to be. Now it’s just deadlines and survival. You have to work but you’re young so you also have to have fun but you’re also supposed to fall in love now so that you can get married at the right age later. And then there are also those dark feelings that inhabit you and that you don’t really know how to deal with.

But somehow, all your friends seem to be doing fine, judging by all those Instagram posts. They have internships, and they’ve even started their own companies, and you’re just here, with all this fire in you that you don’t know what to do with and you’re trying, trying, flailing pathetically at this point. Anything. You would do anything to just move forward a little. But the most depressing thing is that it actually feels like you are doing anything, everything and somehow nothing all at once. But the Universe just doesn’t want to acknowledge that. It’s like the Universe just wants to blow away that flame within you, to extinguish that fire you hold.

But it’ll be okay. Things are always more difficult in the moment than in retrospect, you’ll do better, you’ll get better. Your luck will turn, and your work will pay off. It has to, right?