Turning two-oh

In the past month, three people have asked me how I feel now that I’m turning twenny this month.

The first time I fully realized it was on a jeepney, of all places. My brain went wonky on me and started freaking out: “I’m going to die without doing anything significant, I’m going to die without leaving a trace or a legacy of some sort, I’m going to die alone—” That looped through my head like a relentless, evil mantra all day long.

Now my mom asked me what I was feeling, and I didn’t know. I feel as un-adult as it is possible to feel.

My download list includes old Nickelodeon shows (think Hey Arnold and Kenan and Kel), I eat cereal for dinner, and I don’t even have a postal ID yet. Plus, the idea of leaving school to find work is scaring me to the point that I wonder how it’d be if I flunked on purpose just to remain a student for one more year.

Don’t get me wrong, I look forward to being a bill-paying, nine-to-five-ing, mostly independent adult. But as of this moment, I don’t think I’m quite there yet. Let me get back to you when I stop thinking of my future in terms of days or weeks.

Ela is a twentysomething who is constantly getting stuck in self-destructive behavior and bouts of low self-esteem. She struggles with depression and writes to relieve herself of her feelings. Sometimes she even blogs about other things like makeup and positivity. One of her pieces was published in the Inquirer Young Blood in October 2017. She likes cats, dogs, and sometimes even people.

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