What Turning 25 Means to Me

Being alive for a quarter century sounds much more decrepit than what it truly feels like. It’s an exaggerated way of overstating how much we have matured. To be honest, I feel that I’ve only begun to ripen with knowledge of the world. As the years go on, I only become exponentially aware that what I know now, is insignificant to what I will learn throughout a speculative full life. The accumulation of my attained knowledge marks my age much more accurately and I feel that other people should view it the same way.

These past couple of years I’ve had less of an appetite for cake and candles. The whole ritual feels too repetitive and predictable; even when it’s a surprise party. Instead, I’ve channeled my hunger and excitement into gift wrapped-sealed internal goals. When I’ve learned something and successfully made it habitual, is when I feel truly inclined to whoop it up. To me, celebrating when actual accomplishments are achieved, is what we should all strive for. Try to imagine how different you would view your youth if you only put on party hats when you accomplished something big. Would you begin to realize that true growth is measured in acquired knowledge and skill, opposed to arbitrary numbers? Those numbers often hang over people’s head, and they scold down to those who feel that they should’ve accomplished more by this age. It is about the age of 25 that this begins to happen. So early in life and already hypnotized with the idea that they are merely falling behind. When they are only really falling off the reasoning express.

There is no question that this point of view is unpopular. Some people take pride in the workload they’ve done of staying alive, and they wouldn’t fancy hearing somebody rant about the meaningless of birthdays. It’s just a buzz kill. But if you were to ask me what does turning 25 means to me, I would say that it only means I now qualify for a lower car insurance rate.