I am twenty five. The young adult section in the library no longer welcomes me (the sign reads for twenty four and under). The Eurostar won't give me discount tickets by the time I show up. I get hit on at the bar by people with actual real jobs. I still get carded, but I am for all intents and purposes an adult.
Except I still feel nineteen. Or at the very most twenty one. Sitting in the business class lounge at the airport alongside men in suits and wondering when i'll be a part of that club. Then realising that I am.
I sit in my little business class suite and nibble at food. I drink tea. Watch an action movie, watch another movie. People type on laptops around me and I decide to take a nap. I wonder if being an adult means never leaving the office, even while in the air. I decide that as an adult I reserve the right to fully soak in the miracle that is soaring in the sky thousands of feet above the ground. So I take pictures of the clouds.
I tell my best friend I don't know how to adult, and she points out I've been doing it for a while now, and I clearly know how. Maybe I'll never be that sophisticated person who doesn't feel the need to make long conversations with the personal shopper at the Burberry store, and instead waltzes in and out. I don't think I can be. But I have regular facialists and my favourite health food store owners recognise me. I have too many credit cards (for frequent flyer points, not debt). And maybe that is my version.
Maybe my version is yoga pants and sweaters on weekends, bare feet and always carrying a notebook in my bag. I am embarrassed about my inherent flexibility - all these 'real adults' look stiff and inflexible and my ability to put my foot behind my head makes me feel like a child. I still look for reassurance from a crowd - a sign of insecurity and low self-esteem that I equate with still feeling mentally twenty one. I know that these are adult problems too. Somehow I thought being an adult meant leaving those fears behind. Different scenery, same worries.
I wonder when I will stop thinking about what it means to be 'grown up'. And I wonder when I'll realise for sure that no one ever quite knows what it means. We're all just making it up - slowly but surely finding our way.