Twenty-three years old. To me it's such an awkward number, and even more so, an awkward age.
In college, all I thought about was what it would be like to finally be out in the world doing something worthwhile. The possibilities seemed infinite, and the dream within reach.
The reality of it, however, seems constrained. When I start thinking about finances, medical bills, and my employability in the workforce, I stop for a moment and think, wow, is this what being an adult is about?
23 is a weird time for me. Too young to have really lived, but old enough to feel like you've been through some things. Like trying to figure out what you want to do, what you want to be, and what you want out of life, and realizing that there are no concrete answers to those questions. They change all the time, because we are changing. It's a strange limbo of becoming different versions of ourselves, yet still the same at the core.
Of course there are many things to be happy about. Friends. Family. Living and loving life, because face it, life is pretty good compared to other places.
So why is it that despite all the good things we already have, we still want more? And when will 'more' ever be enough?
In college, all I thought about was what it would be like to finally be out in the world doing something worthwhile. The possibilities seemed infinite, and the dream within reach.
The reality of it, however, seems constrained. When I start thinking about finances, medical bills, and my employability in the workforce, I stop for a moment and think, wow, is this what being an adult is about?
23 is a weird time for me. Too young to have really lived, but old enough to feel like you've been through some things. Like trying to figure out what you want to do, what you want to be, and what you want out of life, and realizing that there are no concrete answers to those questions. They change all the time, because we are changing. It's a strange limbo of becoming different versions of ourselves, yet still the same at the core.
Of course there are many things to be happy about. Friends. Family. Living and loving life, because face it, life is pretty good compared to other places.
So why is it that despite all the good things we already have, we still want more? And when will 'more' ever be enough?
