So next Monday, I will leave my twenties and enter my thirties. It’s hard to believe that I’m about to be 30. Shouldn’t I feel like a grownup? In a lot of ways, I feel the same way I did when I was 12 or 13, except without the whole wondering if I’m going to be getting any taller. I always thought that by 30 I would feel like I was an adult. Of course, I also thought I would be married with a buttload (or maybe a vagload is more anatomically correct) of kids. Obviously, I was mistaken.
I’m not scared of being 30. I’m not dreading it or anything. I’m just having trouble with the concept that life really doesn’t change. It’s like everything that you get told as a kid about how you’re going to mature and behave in a “more civilized” manner is a lie. Yeah, people don’t really mature after a certain point–a lot of times shitty kids end up being shittier adults, twatty people are still just as twatty. I guess the big difference if that you learn that just because another person is an asshole that you don’t have to be an asshole back. Maybe that is maturity? Oh, fuck. If that’s maturity, then that means that half the time I do behave like an adult. Now that’s a scary thought.