EP10: The fear of growing up!

One day you wake up… and you’re 23. Or 25. Or 27.

And suddenly everything feels like it’s moving too fast , too far, without waiting for you to catch up.
You start missing something, and the funny part is… you don’t even know what it is.

It’s not a person.
It’s not a place.
It’s a feeling.

A feeling of being younger , when everything was new, when the smallest moments felt big, when late-night talks in hostel meant everything, when laughing about nothing felt like the universe’s biggest gift.
Summer vacations felt endless.

Life felt slower, lighter and softer.

And suddenly, here you are, wanting all of that again ~ not the people, not the places ; but the aliveness in the little things. The way life felt before it started slipping through your fingers.

I’m 23 right now… and I fear how quickly time is passing.
Everyone around me seems to be running faster than I ever could. Maybe I’m being left behind. Maybe I’m too slow.
And then I think about my childhood version , the one who desperately wanted to grow up , and how stupid that wish feels now.

But God, how I miss her.
The girl who didn’t overthink anything.
Who didn’t care what the world thought.
Who didn’t compare herself to anyone.
Who lived fully in her own tiny bubble, untouched by the world’s noise.

Back then, when the world was mean, I would run to my parents and pour everything out.
Today? I can’t even imagine doing that.
It feels like burdening them with thoughts that barely make sense even to me.
How do I explain that I felt bad because someone’s energy was off?
It's embarrassing even to myself.

So who do I run to now? Probably just my thoughts!

It hits hard every part of the day, when missing your sibling becomes a part of your routine. But growing up has brought a lot of lessons to me.

Adulthood hits in ways no one prepares you for, especially the realization of a privilege you didn’t even know was a privilege.

Living under the same roof as your parents…
There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that compares to that comfort.

Life was unbelievably simple.
I didn’t have to wake up at 7 a.m. to open the door for cook & maid.
I didn’t have to think about what meals needed to be made today.
I didn’t care if groceries were over, or if we were out of milk.
I never had to cook for myself when I was sick ; someone always stepped in, quietly, lovingly, without being asked.

Having your parents in the next room is something no amount of money can buy.
You only realize its worth once it’s gone.

And I don’t know why… but I can’t stop crying while writing this.
Maybe because growing up feels like slowly losing pieces of comfort you didn’t even recognize as comfort.
Maybe because I finally understand what “home” truly meant.

But in the middle of all this heaviness, life teaches you small, unexpected lessons too.

Suddenly, table for one doesn’t feel scary.
Shopping alone feels peaceful.
Sitting quietly in my room feels grounding.
Late‑night walks with just my earphones feel therapeutic.

And a part of me wonders…
Why do I enjoy my own company now, when I hated being alone as a child?
Maybe solitude stopped being scary because the world outside became louder than the silence within.

Death doesn’t scare me as much anymore.
But birthdays do.

Yes, I love the beginning ; dressing up, celebrating with friends, dancing, laughing.
But it’s that moment at the end of the day ; when I come home, remove my makeup, clean the mess I made while getting ready, change into comfy clothes, lie under my blanket, stare at the ceiling ~
that’s when it hits me:

Birthdays are terrifying.
Another year gone.
Another year that won’t come back.

And right here, I want to add a picture of a happy little kid.

Because…

This was me. Before the world told me to be realistic. Before dreams needed permission. 

Before “do what you love” became “do what is safe.”

Somewhere along the way, we called this “growing up.”
But dreams don’t disappear , they just get quieter.
And every time you feel a little pull watching someone else live freely, that’s not jealousy.
That’s the kid in the picture, still dancing inside you.

And I try , I really try , to do things I love.
Even when life gets messy financially, emotionally, mentally.
I try to keep myself happy in small seconds, because honestly… who else will?

I walk away from anything that steals that ability from me.
But I’m still human.
If detaching from people and things we love was easy, the world would be a much happier place.

So do it for yourself.
If not for you, then at least for the little kid who still dances inside you.
She’s still there.
She’s still hopeful.
And she deserves a life that feels alive !!