Young Adult. Almost Full Blown Adult.
When I was 18, I whole heartedly believed that I was a young adult. “You’re so mature for your age,” they would say. So happy to be mistaken for 23, my teenage-self thought I had the world on a string.
Turns out, that was wrong. I think somewhere in the early twenties, all millennials are starting to realize that, maybe the life we were told we would get to live was a grand illusion; The American Dream. “You mean I can’t be a lawyer with a fine arts degree?”
You can’t afford that.
And it’s time to start paying your own cell phone bill too.
Not to mention, in the midst of this epiphany, is what seems to be a lingering stink of doom. “Doomed? Who?” We’re not sure. But there’s a protest, death, ignorance, injustice and unrest at every turn.
Considering all of this, what do we do??
Keep moving forward, with a smile, if you can.
Remember that young adult that believed they had it all together? Be them. Have it together. Keep moving forward. I once asked my mother advice about moving back home and her response was simple, “Don’t go backwards”