On being in my twenties and sort of just floating on by
When I was younger*, I envisioned my twenties as a glittering place of having my own house, a puppy that would never get big or lose its’ fluffiness, long side-swept hair and a Louis Vuitton Speedy 30. Simple.
Well now I am 23 and let me see: I live in my Granny’s apartment – in Hong Kong. I’m the proud mama of two Russian tortoises. I have a blunt, sort of mid-length, nondescript hairstyle that looks bland but means I no longer need to brush my hair when I’m running out of the front door. And I own too many luxury bags to count; none of which are Vuitton. Cue yet another quarter-life crisis.
I read something on Instagram earlier (I wish that I could replace that with something plenty more inspirational, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes) that made me stop and realise that it’s okay to be a little lost right now. God, wouldn’t life be so boring – yet ultimately much more simple, I know, I know – if we always knew what we wanted, how to get it and were always on track?
‘Nothing will ruin your 20s more than thinking you should already have your life together.’
The truth is you’re completely allowed to sometimes dread waking up on a Monday morning, finally prise yourself from the sheets, realise there’s no milk for tea or Coco Pops and wonder what the hell you’re doing anymore.
Your twenties are that glorious period where you’re finding your feet in the Real World yet there’s no obligation to have anything together. You’re probably saving slowly for some form of home to stay in later in life. You’re probably debating whether you need lunch or whether you could push it and make it brunch, thus leaving $ for a Monday-night wine. You’re probably counting down the minutes until you’re home for work and get can that bra off, hair up, pyjamas on and slob out with reruns of Run’s House. Hey, me too!
A certain type of beauty exists in this decade of your life: whether you’re trucking through them now, or you can look back and reminisce, or whether you’re desperately holding on to your teen years. I came to realise as I was packing up my worldly possessions (read: 12 pairs of shoes and a Pokeball ornament) that two decades is far too early to have your life together. For me, my twenties have been a time of exploring, learning myself instead of academia, and of making a new handful of haphazard mistakes every day. Seriously though, nothing will ruin your day more than accidentally putting rice milk in your tea. Except maybe the decision to slip putting flats in your bag when your commute was doubled in time due to Occupy Central-induced traffic.
I guess what I’m trying to get at here is just to take a little time with you all to remember that you can take it a little easier. Don’t let the pressure get to you, don’t sweat the small stuff. All the hippie-Mish vibes.
Life? Having it together? Now? You can have that back thanks.
* Insert: “Like, 12.”