I’ve always been afraid of aging, but I’d never felt old.
In the same way you would be terrified of the sun exploding in 30 million years or whatever
unimaginably large number of years they were saying in the 2000s: you’d feel petrified, but
upon reason, you’d come to realize that you would probably never have to front that fear.
I try to convince myself that 25 isn’t old. Sabrina Carpenter is 25, Chappell Roan is 26. 25 is
an okay age! Yes, but look at where they are, and look at where you are, a tiny voice
whispers in the back of my head.
The other day I went pottery painting with the Her Campus girls, well aware that they were
going to be younger and cooler than me, but determined to not feel old and not tell myself
that I’m out of place – because I’m not, right?
Nothing could have prepared me for the work of one of the girls: a plate that reads ‘Happy
21st Birthday’ to be gifted to one of her friends. And it was beautiful and lovely, but I felt a
punch in my guts. What? Some of these girls are 20? Jesus, some of them may even be 19.
I’m SO old.
I felt like Jenna in 13 going on 30 when she meets a 13-year-old girl in the lift and she
excitedly says: ‘Oh! I’m 13 too! Well… I was. Once’.
I was 19, 20, 21 too. Once. I was a cool young girl doing her bachelors, I always understood
all the trends before the Millennials, I was the gen-z intern in an office full of old people (who
were probably around my current age). If I said a quirky new phrase I had heard on TikTok, it
was deemed as ‘cool’. If I do that now, it’s just cringe. And now I’ve even become self-
conscious about wearing Starface patches – am I too old for this? Is this meant to be for,
like, younger people? Do I just look stupid?
It happened so fast. Now the 2006 babies are calling me old and try-hard for saying I’m a
gen z and not a millennial (even though I am!) and the 30 year old people are starting to
sound funnier than the skibidi toilet whatever the hell is going on in Roblox servers these
days.
I try to post, but I’m no longer cool. Everything I say sounds off, old, boring, and when I try to
see my Instagram feed from an outsider’s perspective it just looks like the kind of things my
aunt would post on Facebook. What is left of me if my young, cool internet persona is gone
and got replaced by a 9-to-5 worker, late 90s kid, academic failure? What else was I before,
besides young and cool?
It’s like that time I was at a club and a guy bought me a Guinness because he thought I was
hot. He asked me: how old are you?, I cheekily said: guess! He guessed 30, and suddenly
the beer was not remotely as bitter as me.
Anyway, I could waste the rest of my 20s crying over the self-imposed narrative of getting
old, worrying about my (still non-existent) wrinkles, or just pretending I’m still 21 and trying to
blend in with the new trends – but where would be the fun in that?
What would be the fun in trying to preserve one stage of my life – my early 20s – while
neglecting the current one? When I think of how I’m going to feel when I’m 30, I realize that I
will not be missing my 20-21; I will miss being 25. Thinking of it in this way makes me realize
that this is the stage where I’m supposed to set the base for living my best life in my 30s.
This is the part of my life where I give that last little push, academically speaking, to be able
to pursue my dream job in my late 20s-early 30s. This is the part where I start being more
mindful of my health and my habits, so that when I turn 30 I won’t have the dreadful thoughts
of: oh, God, I should’ve started skincare 10 years ago. Oh, God, I cannot handle a hangover
anymore but I also can’t stop drinking. Oh, God, I’m so old and I’ve been pretending to be 21
for the last 10 years, and now it’s too late to actually live my mid-20s.
My future self is going to be grateful for me thinking about her.
So – what am I now, if not 21 and cool?
I guess I’m 25 and… exactly where I’m supposed to be?
Not as cool as I was when I was younger, but cooler than I’ll be in 5 years – and I guess
that’s the best I can hope for. And if the payment for the sacrifice of detaching myself from
my younger persona will be a more rewarding life in my thirties, then I’m looking forward to
living that life! (Even if I have to conform myself with who I am now, instead of holding onto
who I used to be).