Twenty-five and Counting: A Quarter Life Crisis

A Story by ChrissieDH

A tale of horror and woe (read: pasta and self-pity)

Your early twenties are so much fun. You have all the energy and excitement of a teenager with the freedom and resources of a young adult. Hangovers are a short inconvenience on the morning after the night before, which was obviously the best night ever. Friendships are low maintenance and suffer very little from the lack of attention given to them. Relationships are all-consuming but somewhat easier to bounce back from when they fail.

And then you turn twenty-five. All of a sudden, you're hit with a feeling of inadequacy. What have you actually done with your life? People your age are getting engaged, travelling the world or working for the treasury in a tailored suit. And you're drying yourself off with a towel that should have been washed a couple of days ago and which will spend the next couple of days on the bathroom floor. Money is scarce, hangovers are hell. And the high metabolism of yesteryear has run for the hills (which is more running than you've ever done). You haven't shaved your legs in 2017. It's April, for God's sake. Winter is over.

And what can you do? People in their mid-life crises buy cars and have affairs. But you can't drive, and you don't have anyone to cheat on.

You could do a course? Do they offer courses on how to be slightly less s**t at everything? Because you're sort of doing alright as a pretend adult. You're managing to survive, even though you go to bed quite often without taking your makeup off and you eat pasta five times a week.

Maybe you could get a cat? But you don't really have many friends anymore because the lack of attention from your early twenties has caught up with you. So, if you went on holiday, who would look after little Hans Gruber? That's a good name for a cat. You should write that down, you're going to need it later.

But would you go back to your early 20s if you could? Back to uncertainty, drunken blurs and one-night stands? No, probably not. So onwards and upwards; take this quarter-life crisis and kick its arse! Maybe start by trying a bit harder at everything. Call your mother, look for a more satisfying job, eat better and for f**k's sake, shave your legs.

But first, go back to bed and sleep off the three drinks you had last night. As mentioned, hangovers are hell.