I thought I would stay cool my whole life. Having lived through the years when Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat were invented, we millennials felt we were on top of the world. Before the world of bloggers and influencers came into being, Instagram was created for millennials when we began to think elders were infiltrating Facebook with their 'Good Morning' memes and countless blurry selfies taken with selfie sticks. Instagram was a place for us to post philosophical quotes and nature photos with countless filters and trying to pretend to find a deeper meaning to life.
The good time did not last long for us. Like any other big invention, people of all ages stormed Instagram and now, it is a world of highly curated posts and photos. I still have to think fifteen times before posting a photo lest people think it is not good enough. On the bright side, my social media posting game is strong and worthy. At least according to my much younger cousins.
I truly thought I would spend my years being different from our previous generations and change the world in my own way. Now at twenty-eight, I find myself relating to those same people in Facebook I thought were not on par with us. One day, I am feeling I am young and hip (now I'm even using the phrase young and hip like an advertisement for hip surgery) and the next day I realise I have a favourite grocery store and going to that store counts as a holiday. Now I get giddy when I get the chance to bust open a new Scotch Brite over buying a new top. I kid! I still get excited shopping for new clothes. The difference is now I feel happy over both new dish sponges and clothes.
In my early twenties, I would look forward to brunch outings with my girlfriends in order to retell stories and updates about my dating life and career options I was still allowed to think about. At twenty-eight years, I still look forward to those brunch dates with girlfriends with fearful enthusiasm to discuss marriage options, babies, and reminiscing how fun and dramatic we used to be.
Speaking of marriage and babies, being twenty-eight and having neither a doting husband nor bouncing babies on my lap, I find myself somewhat of an abomination in my family and society's eyes. Anywhere and everywhere I find random aunties thrusting biodatas of 'good boys' in my hands.
I find it both admirable and hilarious when they look at me with pity and say something along the lines of "Sweetheart, don't wait too long to get married. Married life is wonderful!" and then the next minute, complain how tired they are of their husbands and wish they chose someone else and how obnoxious their children turned out to be.
Funny thing is, now I do understand sometimes where their opinions come from. It is okay to want something everyone is doing around you and also complain about the very same things you ended up doing.
Being a dopamine junkie in my early twenties meant doing things to try to please people and getting short bursts of happiness from their approval, but now, it is a miracle if I can muster up enough enthusiasm for my best friend's birthday.
I pride myself on being mature now (at least according to me). I mean, I still like to think myself as the young and fun person who can kick up a storm at a party but only if the party ends at 10PM and I can be in bed by 11PM. This girl needs her seven hours of sleep to function the next day!
No one tells you how drastically your opinions and thoughts change as you grow older. Now it is a competition between my brain and heart in trying to be practical yet not accepting the realisation that I'm a full-grown adult.
Nearing your thirties means I still feel I am young, yet at the same time feel so old. In Garth Brooks' wise words: "I'm much too young to feel this damned old."
