In my limited experience being alive on this planet as a human being, I find that one phrase in particular is uttered most frequently on the anniversary of my birth. "I'm **!"--(** being my age)--"but I don't feel **."
This birthday is different for me. This is the first time actually I feel. my. age. Now let me clarify: I'm not saying I feel my age in the sense that I'm old and ragged and I feel my body failing me, but I do sense my mind finally letting go of the remnants of the adolescent naïveté it had been holding on to so desperately. I'm in my early 20's, and while still in college, I was being sheltered from the world by textbooks, lecture halls, and early morning exams. "I'm 21! Yay! Drinks! Okay, but I have to finish my homework first." At this stage of my life, I consider myself to be "grown-up" because I've completed what I consider to be the (my) minimum requirement for adulthood (obtaining a college education). On top of that, I find myself to be more capable of keeping healthy social relationships while being (almost) completely emotionally self-sufficient.
This past year was filled by a maelstrom of emotions fueled by many a life-changing event--including, but not limited to: tempestuous romances, close calls, tragic deaths, finally being kicked out of the proverbial academic nest into the real world... It really should have been enough to put me out of the game for good. I was left disoriented, disconcerted, and exposed to all the disappointed hopes the world had to offer, but I emerged from the cocoon battle-scarred and ready for another adventure. "DUDE, I'm okay now! I'm O.K. Really, I'm fine. My shrink is confident in my ability to not kill myself."
I do not claim to possess all of the wisdom and experience life has to offer at the ripe young age of 23, but I do feel ever-so-slightly competent of the ways of the world and almost relieved at knowing I have this new strength of will and poise in the face of the world's caprice.
And I'm excited. This is when I truly get to explore my options unhindered by a strict schedule and decide what kind of person I'm going to be for the next couple of years. I'm at a new stage of my life and I can do whatever I want to do. I am capable.
[But suppose this is not how 23 is supposed to feel. Suppose in an alternate reality, things did not go as they did last summer and I am living a happy life in the city with a stable grown-up job and perhaps even a stable grown-up relationship. In the morning, I get up and go to work. Then I come back home at the appropriate hour, pour myself a glass of wine, and cook dinner for one (or perhaps a dinner for two). Sleep. Wake up and repeat. And I'm happy. I suppose I would think I felt 23 then, too. A different kind of 23, but a newly formed grown-up nonetheless and none-the-wiser. I'm not too sure which reality I'd actually choose, if given the choice.]
