After 20
At 20, my life started. Or so I thought.
I got into a good college.
Enrolled in a course I didn’t want.
Heck, it wasn’t even among my choices.
But at least I was still in a good college.
A prestigious university.
I thought I was being practical.
And that’s what I always tell myself:
to be grateful for the things I have,
for the opportunity to pursue an education.
Because that’s what I’ve always been told.
"You should be grateful for this."
"You should be grateful for that."
"You have this and that, but others don’t."
I’m not ungrateful, though.
I’m grateful for everything,
even the smallest things.
I was given an opportunity
that others would consider a privilege.
I chose security over personal preference.
But what happens
when you receive an opportunity
you’ve been told to appreciate,
yet it’s an opportunity
you never dreamed of having?
I always tell myself,
"I started it, so I should finish it."
So I pushed myself to like certain things.
To do something.
To participate in something.
Some days, I can.
Some days, I barely can.
And some days, I simply can’t.
Sometimes, I receive enough support.
More often than not, I receive none.
But I still do it anyway.
Maybe because I think I can.
Maybe because I grew up hearing
that other people have less than I do.
Maybe because I was always reminded
of how fortunate I am
whenever I expressed dissatisfaction.
Or maybe because
I learned to feel guilty
for wanting more.
Then I realized
that I can be fortunate
and dissatisfied at the same time.
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I thought turning 20
would make me feel more independent.
That in my early twenties,
I’d understand myself better.
That I’d make decisions
without constantly considering
other people’s expectations.
But adulthood doesn’t automatically give us freedom.
Instead, it gives us adult responsibilities.
It gives us bills.
It gives us different challenges
on different fronts.
It gives us questions about identity
and existential uncertainties.
It gives us academic burnout
and career disillusionment.
It gives us the constant feeling
that there simply aren’t enough hours in a day
to balance everything.
Some days,
I think about everything too much.
I overthink.
I overcare.
And some days,
I can’t even bring myself to care at all.
But I’ve thought about everything.
The professions I once dreamed of pursuing.
The interests I developed
but never fully explored.
The things I abandoned
because life took a different direction.
And the possibility
that some dreams aren’t necessarily gone.
Perhaps they’re simply waiting.
So now, I quit.
I quit trying to please everyone.
I quit letting other people’s opinions
and judgments dictate my decisions.
I quit forcing myself
to pursue things I don’t love.
Instead, I give my younger siblings
what I never received.
I teach them what I was never taught.
I give them opportunities
I once wished someone had given me.
I give them the childhood experiences
I wish I could have had.
All while finding my way back
to the things I once loved
but eventually abandoned.
All while learning,
growing,
and figuring out
what it means to become
a responsible adult.
Before,
there were so many things
others had that I didn’t.
So many things I wanted
but never had.
So many things I wanted to become
but never became.
So many things I wanted to experience.
And there were things
I wanted and eventually got,
but they came with a price
or consequences I hadn’t anticipated.
Now,
I just want something of my own.
Something I own.
Something I choose.
Something I build.
Something I can call mine.
Something that is me.
