But what if I’m not whole by 30?
It began as an inside joke when I was 22. My friends and I started saying that on my 30th birthday, I’ll die. “The night you turn 30, you’ll just disintegrate.” we used to say. Then we would laugh about it. It was a funny thought, if only a little dark.
And then the existential dread settled. I’ve been a child all my life. All I’ve ever known is youth. The hardships I faced, the way I dealt with them, my form of experiencing emotions — they were all childish and juvenile. Until now.
I am now 24 and my brain is constantly tormented by one single thought: what if I’m not whole by 30? What if I haven’t achieved all the great things I told myself I would accomplish? What if I meet that dreadful threshold, surpass it and discover an empty-handed, fully fleshed adult, devoid of dreams and bearer of a pessimist heart, like all the adults I used to see when I was a kid?
The thought made me hyperventilate. Then I realized I was making myself anxious and stopped. I grabbed myself and said: “My boy, you’re no longer a child. You’re an adult. Let’s be an adult and see things from a different perspective. Let’s be the hopeful adult I never had around myself.”
So, to this existential question full of fear, I asked: what if I turn 30 and discover that all those times I tried to make sense of my life and of this world actually led me to something? What if I turn 30 and suddenly all the things that were hard and difficult become easy, simple tasks I can finish in the blink of an eye?
What if I turn 30 and realize there’s but one single thing to do with life: live it. Experience it. Remember the past, hope for a better future, exist in the present time. The consideration alone made me smile. It made me hopeful.
So I made a final question.
What if I turn 30 and realize that I am just then starting to live my life?