There’s an old saying that youth is wasted on the young, and it’s easy to see why. At 20, you’re standing on the bridge between the fire of youthful idealism and the sobering reality of adult responsibility. You dream big, but the world feels bigger—vast and demanding, eager to temper your passion with practicality. It’s not uncommon to feel like some part of you fades away in this transition, the unrelenting rush of life’s demands slowly extinguishing the youthful spark that once burned so brightly.
“Died at 20, buried at 70.” It’s not a phrase meant to diminish the worth of those middle years, but rather a poetic lament for the parts of ourselves we leave behind as we grow older. It reflects a shared experience—the quiet, unspoken grief of losing our youthful dreams, ambitions, and often, the belief that anything is possible. But this story isn’t entirely one of loss. It’s also about rediscovery, wisdom, and the beauty of evolving into a more grounded, reflective version of ourselves.
The Quiet Mourning of Youthful Ambition
At 20, life often feels like a freshly primed canvas, waiting for bold strokes of color. You carry with you the remnants of childhood dreams, the thrill of independence, and the illusion that life is yours to mold. You want to travel the world, start a business, make an impact, or write that novel you’ve been daydreaming about since high school English class. Everything feels possible.
But then, reality comes knocking. Bills pile up, careers demand compromises, and the weight of expectations—from family, society, and even yourself—presses down. The spark of idealism, once vibrant, starts to dim. Not because you’ve failed, but because life is complicated. The simplicity of youthful ambition begins to unravel in the face of practical limitations.
This is often the moment people describe as “dying at 20.” It’s not a literal death, of course, but rather the quiet, internal mourning of the person you once believed you would be. The dreamer gives way to the realist, and the world becomes a little less magical.
The Slow Journey Back to Life
But here’s the thing: Life has a funny way of circling back. While you may feel like you’ve buried your youthful self, the truth is that it’s still there, dormant, waiting for the right moment to reemerge. The years between 20 and 70 are not just a void to be endured but a landscape of growth, change, and quiet miracles.
In your thirties, you might start to let go of the need to impress others. You realize that your value isn’t defined by your job title, your relationship status, or the number of stamps in your passport. You begin to understand the importance of balance—that it’s okay to rest, to choose stability over constant striving. It’s in this decade that you start to reclaim pieces of yourself, not as a wide-eyed dreamer but as someone who’s learned to dream with their feet planted firmly on the ground.
Your forties and fifties bring a deepening sense of self. By now, you’ve faced heartbreak, loss, and failure. But you’ve also experienced joy, connection, and resilience. You’ve built a life—maybe not the one you envisioned at 20, but one that’s real and meaningful. You’ve learned to laugh at the absurdity of it all, to cherish the small moments, to forgive yourself for your missteps.
It’s not the years in your life that count, it’s the life in your years.
Abraham Lincoln
And then, there’s the wisdom of later years. By the time you reach 70, you’ve shed much of the ego and insecurity that defined your younger self. You’ve come to terms with the life you’ve lived, and you’re finally free to embrace who you truly are. The dreams that once seemed out of reach no longer feel like failures but lessons, each one a stepping stone on your journey.
The Rebirth of Self-Acceptance
If dying at 20 symbolizes the loss of youthful idealism, then being buried at 70 is something entirely different. It’s not an ending but a culmination—the final act in a life well-lived. It’s a moment of reflection, a time to look back and see the beauty in the messy, imperfect journey that brought you here.
In the quiet of old age, you might rediscover the parts of yourself that felt lost at 20. The creative spark that once seemed extinguished flickers to life as you take up painting, gardening, or writing poetry. The desire for adventure returns, not as a need to conquer the world but as an appreciation for the simple wonders around you—a walk in the park, a conversation with a friend, the way sunlight filters through the trees.
You may also find yourself cherishing connections more deeply. Relationships that felt transactional or hurried in youth become richer as you prioritize quality over quantity. Grandchildren, old friends, or even strangers can remind you of the joys of shared humanity. The beauty of being present outweighs the urgency of “getting somewhere.”
Most importantly, you learn to let go of regret. You realize that every choice, every detour, every perceived failure has shaped you into the person you are today. And that person is enough—flawed, yes, but also resilient, kind, and deeply human.
The Beauty of a Full Life
“Died at 20, buried at 70” isn’t a tragedy. It’s a reminder that life is a series of deaths and rebirths. It’s about the seasons of growth and rest, of ambition and reflection, of striving and letting go. It’s about the ways we lose and find ourselves, over and over again.
So, if you’re feeling like you’ve lost your spark, take heart. The story isn’t over. The person you were at 20 isn’t gone; they’ve simply evolved. And who you are at 70 will be a richer, wiser version of yourself, shaped by a lifetime of experience.
Old age, believe me, is a good and pleasant thing. It is true you are gently shouldered off the stage, but then you are given such a comfortable front stall as spectator
Confucius
As a 20-year-old, the weight of the world may sometimes feel overwhelming. The dreams and ambitions you once held close to your heart might feel distant or impossible to reach.
But here’s the truth: you’re just at the beginning.
Every decision you make, every twist and turn, every moment of doubt is part of a much larger journey. Life isn’t meant to be a race, and there’s no one right way to achieve what you’ve imagined for yourself. The beauty of youth lies not in the destination but in the freedom to explore, to fail, to grow, and to rediscover your own path. You’re not meant to have it all figured out now, and that’s okay. What matters is the courage to keep moving forward, even when the road feels uncertain. In time, the pieces will fall into place, and you’ll realize that your dreams haven’t disappeared—they’ve just shifted, and they’re evolving with you. The things you once thought you wanted may no longer fit who you are, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your spark. It simply means you’re becoming someone even more amazing than you imagined.
Trust in the journey you’re on and know that every step—whether it feels like progress or a setback—is just another part of the story you’re still writing. What feels uncertain now will eventually make sense in ways you can’t yet see. And when you look back, you’ll realize that every detour, every moment of doubt, helped shape the person you’re becoming.
For more such brutally honest takes on college life, check out Her Campus at MUJ.
And if you’d like to explore more of my world, visit my corner at HCMUJ — Aditi Thakur