on adulting, birthdays, and growing old

Twenty-one tastes like freedom
I'm sure you know that feeling

As if you can conquer the world

Twenty-two is a party on a weekday night

Pushing the limits of a hangover

Moving to another job when things don't go according to plan

Twenty-three is the same thing

Just a little bit wiser, though

Not falling for the wrong things Twenty-two did

Twenty-four is re-evaluating your goals before it's too late

And chasing after dreams

While "adulting" tries to tie you down

Little by little

Twenty-five is too pretentious to be called a proper adult

But Twenty-six is like you're trying too hard

Twenty-seven? Now, Twenty-seven seems just right for this thing called "adulting"

Twenty-seven sounds sexy

Hell, it feels sexy

(I feel sexy)

Now, Twenty-eight seems like the rest of your life is looming in the distance

As if all the moves you're making starting today can never be taken back

The "adulting" feelings have settled down, making you its home

Twenty-nine is waiting for the panic to set in

The panic for when you turn Thirty

When all the questions you've been dodging come in...

Seriously, when are you getting married?

What about kids? Won't your eggs dry up?

Why don't you have insurance yet?

You don't have savings?

You didn't take up a Masters Degree yet?

Why do you still live with relatives?

Why don't you have a driver's license?

But you're Thirty!

Life is funny most of the time

We're all just really winging it

Trying not to drown while fighting the current

So I say, "Ahh, fuck it.

Life starts at Forty anyway."