It seems that universally, youth is held as this fragile thing; we fear its loss and feel pressured to make it count. But, why is it that within the human experience, our “prime” has been reduced to a predetermined period in our lives? In reality “youth,” in the way we’ve conceptualized it, only makes up such a small, borderline insignificant part of the lived experience. Think about it: your late teens to late 20s (18-29) only comprise about 10 percent of your lifetime (if you’re lucky enough to live till you’re 100). Reconciling with the fact that our time is quickly running out, three of us MODA Digital writers have decided to come together and reflect on the concept of youth, vulnerability, and our own experiences growing up.
Oh… and we have these super cool photos from this past Halloween that we forgot to share… oops (our bad). So, since this is low-key a ~spooky~ topic, we thought it would be fitting to include them here.
We hope you enjoy :) !
Sincerely,
Riya, Maryam, & Liz
Ruminations on Maturity
I have always been reluctant to call myself mature. That isn’t to say that I think I am immature; in my head, maturity was (is) something stagnant and distant— something achievable. Like a milestone, representing peak wisdom. I think that I always thought that one day I would wake up and just know that this was it. This is “maturity”. Whatever that means.
In a very meta way, this refrain from admitting my own level of “grown-up-ness” was something I used (use) to make myself feel mature. Somehow, to me admitting my immaturity was mature in and of itself; I was acknowledging that transition was inevitable and imminent, and that I would continue to gain knowledge about the world throughout the rest of my lifetime. That I had not yet peaked in my understanding and perspective of the world, and would continue to grow— and that I was absolutely not naive to that fact. I was self-aware. But in reality, it was (is) just a method of protection: from independence, from societal expectations, from change. From the responsibilities that accompany maturity.
(october 31, 2008)
Maturity is, according to Merriam-Webster, “as in adulthood”. Synonymous to: adulthood, adultness, prime. Adulthood is associated with big things– bills, a big-girl job, expectation, marriage, kids, property ownership, stocks, investments, maturity. This scares me. A lot. And, according to the societal timeline, the deadline to get my shit together, to reach adulthood, is coming up, and fast. Right now, there’s this immense pressure, both internally and externally, to not only set yourself up to be successful financially, emotionally, physcially, and socially, but to also “make the most” of this time while doing it. But at the very least, at this point there is an expectation of direction. But what does that even mean?
It’s so easy to fall into this cycle of attempting to temporally *catch up*. But what, or who, are we trying to catch up to? Everyone else? Who says we all have to move at the same pace? Is there really even a pace, or is there just an illusion of one created by a million people trying to move faster than each other all at the same time? I always used to think of college as this great period of experimentation, your “prime”, both academically and personally; this is the time to try new things, figure out what you’re passionate about. But once you’re here, it feels like tunnel vision is the only path to success, a singular, elusive blueprint that will lead you to maturity. You must be focused on your future from the beginning, don’t slow down because you’ll fall behind! Which, of course, isn’t true. But it feels like it. But it isn’t true. And because it isn’t true, that means that the pressure to abide by this path also isn’t true.
I guess my point is that it’s okay to slow down. There are no deadlines, there are no cut-offs for when you’re allowed to try something new, when you can part from the pre-charted path— it’s all made up anyways. And it’s also okay to acknowledge the change you’ve undergone, the growth you have experienced thus far. You (I) are a dynamic being, and you (I) should be present. Or, in other words,
I am mature.
<3, Riya
Cold Coffee
I like to think I’ll be forever young.
I also like to think I’m invincible.
Full of life. Full of energy. Full of ambition.
I don’t like to sleep.
I like to tell myself not to sleep because I’m running out of time.
Don’t go to sleep because you’re invincible.
I sleep for 4 hours.
Wake up.
Drink caffeine.
Day begins but
I’m tired.
I thought caffeine wasn’t temporary.
I thought it would last forever.
I thought I was invincible.
I thought I would be forever young.
I’m running out of time.
I take a nap.
Wake up.
Drink caffeine.
It’s 5pm and I’m still tired.
I thought caffeine wasn’t temporary.
I thought it would last forever.
I thought I was invincible.
I thought I would be forever young.
I’m running out of time.
I like to stay awake.
I like to tell myself not to sleep because I’m running out of time.
Stay awake because you’re invincible.
It’s 3am.
Typing.
Drink Caffeine.
The night is young but
I’m running out of time.
- Maryam
Some Luck for those 20-somethings
To a younger me, your twenties were freedom personified. Like a true idealist, adolescent Elizabeth believed that 20-something Elizabeth would be uninhibited by her parents, real-world systems, and silly social conventions (minus the ones she would benefit from of course). She would be likable— lovable even (she prayed and hoped as much). She would be the kind of girl you couldn’t help but stare at with twinkles in your eyes. She’d have the kind of career that allowed her to make a ridiculous, borderline impossible amount of money to fund her “soft life” while simultaneously being a crowned party princess. And for her, no effort would be required to romanticize life when it was all— everything she lived for— already romantic.
Well, that is all to say that Elizabeth is now freshly twenty. Six definably mediocre months in, to be exact! And though in some ways I guess she’s fulfilled a few of the things on that checklist, for the most part, in trying to make her twenties “worthwhile,” she’s faced more anxiety and disappointment than desired or initially anticipated.
i.e. we lost the original plot.
You see, what adolescent Elizabeth believed in was a fairytale version of her twenties. She was lulled into believing that her twenties were everything because, as a little girl who also thought little of herself, the autonomy that her twenties sold was the most precious thing she could ever fathom having.
But now, I am twenty and suddenly realizing that I am still not as unconquerable as I had hoped. My mental health is probably at its most fragile, and my body is soon to follow. Every day, I become more convinced that I’ll have Arthritis by age 30. Also, if I’m being honest, my childhood insecurities kind of just morphed into something far more insidious, wrapped #coquettecore style in pretty paper with a satin pink bow to tie.
Not to mention, my so-called “autonomy” is actively being stifled by the VERY REAL-world conventions and adult responsibilities that a younger me had so naively unconsidered. Realistically, it seems these next few years will be filled with a lot more confusion than romance and that the optimal yet tragically superficial lifestyle I had once visualized was simply a symptom of the ways we have all universally fetishized “youth” (and no, I’m not talking about the gross, creepy way).
Innocence and blameless irresponsibility are inherent to “youth” fetishization— and those perks are the most appealing for obvious reasons. Sure, we can talk about physical beauty and all that (which plays into it), but what I’m interested in and currently struggling with is the sudden loss of these two things. Twenty so far, though young, feels like an age that’s only hanging on to my “youth” by a thread, and my “innocence” is quickly expiring (if it has not already) as I slowly pile on responsibility.
I can no longer say, “I’m too young to know any better.” I was. I’m not now (I say this even though my prefrontal cortex hasn’t fully developed). I realize now that we’ve enveloped “youth” with a sort of haze, making clear as day all the “good” and exciting parts. Things like party culture, college, adventures, young love, physical attractiveness, and the list goes on. But, we’ve hidden all the chaotic and ugly parts, or maybe as we grow up, simply forget them. Yet, at twenty, I am being forced to face the world and all the havoc humanity has had on it, even while I may argue that I am not ready. What’s scarier is that I can only pick up the pieces and move forward when I, too, inevitably make mistakes along the way. Blamelessness out the window.
Of course, that may make me anxious sometimes and, in others, disappointed. But I keep trying to remind myself that what’s important is that the (my) world won’t end. It didn’t when I was 12 and much too naive, or 15 and ridden with raging hormones, or 17 and extremely indecisive and fucking clueless. Spoiler: I’m still like that. I’m just hoping it’ll work out somehow.
At twenty, full clarity, the biggest lesson I’m learning is to give my younger self a break because she really deserved one, and lord knows I still do now.
It would be disingenuous to say that I’m not petrified of growing up, so we can skip this round of the pretend game. Instead, I’ll end with this: these 20-somethings won’t at all be perfect, that’s true, but at least they will be mine to define, and that much I’m excited about (the rhyming was a little atrocious but you get the gist).
Wishing you & I the best of luck, always. <3
xoxo Liz
There you go, a few anecdotes to help get you through the next decade or so or at least to make you feel a little less alone.
Moral of the story: while you may feel a lot of pressure at this stage of life to “do it right” or minimize your future regret, remember that we’re all just trying to take it one day at a time. So, all you can do is try your best and have some fun while you’re at it!
If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading— we truly appreciate you!
Yours,
Riya, Maryam, & Liz
Images courtesy of MODA Digital Team & our lovely friends.
