It wasn’t so much the concept of getting older that I found so overwhelming, but rather the transference from what I perceived to be one definite phase of life to another. Yes, my twenties had been rife with anxiety, insecurity, and bad choices, but I only recognized at the exit that there had been a comforting loosey-gooseyness to the whole thing. There was no specific requirement for being a twenty-something—it’s what I found so disorientating about the experience. I never knew where I was meant to be or what I was meant to be doing—it was just as normal to be a twenty-seven-year-old with a
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