When grown-ups have feelings

The older I get, the more I wonder whether there even is such a thing as a grown-up. Most of the time I think we’re all just flailing about and none of us really know what the fuck we’re doing anyway.

I don’t know if I qualify as a grown-up. I mean, I may be financially independent now and I’ve learned the four P’s of marketing, but I still don’t know anything about stocks and I still don’t have a driver’s license.

One way in which I do notice time passing, though, is that I don’t seem to feel things quite as intensely as I used to. It’s like someone set the transparency higher on my life, like I still see the colors but what used to be a flaming red has become an orange-tinted kind of coral and the deep blue that used to feel like I would drown in it and never resurface suddenly seems a less insurmountable shade of petrol.

This Book Helped Me Figure Out My Life Purpose

Do you know what you're alive for?

I don't think everyone looks for a life purpose. If you were born in poverty, or if you're ill, you can't afford to wonder why you get out of bed in the mornings. You get out of bed because if you don't show up to work, you stand to lose your entire existence, and maybe that of your family too. You get out of bed because you don't know if you'll still be alive to do it tomorrow.

So my search for meaning is, to some extent, a luxury problem.