To piggy back off of the article below that I’ve posted the link for (complete credits to Molly Sprayregen, a Culture Writer based in Chicago, who voiced exactly what I and many of my friends are in the middle of):
23 is the scariest age.
I don’t listen to Taylor Swift, drink wine on an apartment floor or watch reruns of Gilmore Girls, but everything else is so accurate in Molly’s post that I was almost moved to tears.
At 22 we were terrified, about to graduate, still uncertain (most of us) of what we were going to do after we walked across that stage and grabbed that fancy lookin’ diploma… But we were still in college, surrounded by a night life, the close friends we had made, and professors that mentored and supported us and assured us that we would do great things. We were still kids. There was terror, but there was a nervous, excited kind of hope as well.
Now that’s gone. It’s not that we’re hopeless. We’re just too busy, confused, and out of our comfort zone that we can’t even imagine thinking of a week from now, let alone our 5 year plan. Overnight we were thrown into a world we were supposed to be preparing for but found out that, no matter how many times we were told it would happen, none of this we expected. Not because we messed up, but because… well… that’s just how it is… We are in an awkward phase without a clue (most of us, especially me) of where we fit in. And the worst part is that the society we’ve dived into is changing so drastically that today we might have some sense of a belonging, but tomorrow that wave of change may come and wash that away, setting us back adrift in the middle of the ocean.
At 23 we can’t help but compare ourselves to everyone else in the world- thanks to social media blasts publicizing stories about this totally talented, genius of a 17 year old who changed the world with one YouTube video and is such an influence and making so much money. Then we look at our own lives and we feel infinitely less accomplished, when we should feel so proud of the fact that, yes, that wave of change is beating down on us and we’re in the deep end of 23 with no anchored buoy to hold on too, but we’re still swimming, and our heads are still above water.
Just read it: