Actual thoughts of an actual 25 year old.
Day two aged 25.
Nothing much seems to have changed.
That being said my life is pretty weird and wonderful. Weirder and wonderfuller than I could’ve imagined, if I am honest.
I know those aren’t words but that’s the beauty of somehow ending up being the ruler of your own weird internet job. There aren’t many rules.
I’m sat here writing a paid blog post about vulvas.
I’m being paid to write about vulvas.
Not right now, that’s what I am supposed to be writing but instead I am writing this.
That pretty much encapsulates me as a person if you cba to read anymore.
I’m a personal trainer/influencer in the “wellness” industry, and I’m opting for Ferraro Roche’s for breakfast.
I am also recalling instances of boys watching bad porn in the playground.
It’s for work.
Upon inspection I have also made an absolutely abysmal attempt at taking off my eyeshadow from last night.
I have come leaps and bounds in the eyeshadow department so I shall conclude that this is probably a mark of my new prowess with beauty products, rather than a slight on my personal hygiene skills.
I am on the precipice of a hangover, but I also have a shit-tonne of shit to do.
Water is obviously the answer.
I shall cleanse myself of all my sins - including but not exclusive to, the box of chocolates I ate last night and the box of chocolates I’ve literally just polished off this morning.
No sins, no guilt.
All food is good food.
God, I am literally writing a piece about shame, guilt and pleasure whilst harbouring guilt about the inordinate amount of chocolate I just consumed.
I am a hypocrite.
Tbf it’s not my fault the catholics were really good at slogans. ‘Rid thyself of sins’ is catholic right?
Good, ok, it was only a minor relapse.
Back to writing.
Where is my pen?
I’m 25 and I only own one pen. It’s one my dad gave me and it has his logo on it.
Pen located, note added to list.
List reads (amongst other things):
-Blog post for Cult Beauty
-Edit Sofie Hagen Podcast
-Empty bathroom bin
-Plan for bookclub
I am not ashamed to admit that I find it super therapeutic to add very easy, and very mundane tasks to my list. These act as a means of making me feel accomplished as a somewhat chaotic person.
25 is quite a big age isn’t it?
Apparently at 25 you are psychologically classed as an adult.
I think that I thought that by 25,
-I’d be married
-I would own a house
-I would have a capsule wardrobe
-I would have an actual wardrobe
-I would know how to manage my money
-I would write in proper sentences
I think I also wanted to wear cream cashmere, drive a range rover and be somewhat of a sloane.
People can change ok?
Probably didn’t imagine myself taking photos of myself everyday to post on the internet to literally more than one-hundred-thousand people
I wonder how many people are getting stressed reading this, as it has no semblance of correct form, structure or even grammar.
Can you believe we say ‘lol’ out loud as an actual word now? Me neither tbh.
So yeah, 25.
It is cool I guess.
I like my Job (even though my parents don’t really get what I do - this might slightly be my fault as I am not entirely 100% sure either)
I am in a happy relationship
I am paying my rent each month
Those things, oddly, are my favourites.
The stable things.
I used to HaTe the idea of normalcy and stability.
At what point did going home at 1am become more fun than trying to make best friends with the security guard in McDonalds at 4am in the hopes of getting to wear his hi-vis for a photo that would be uploaded into a 60-photo-strong album on facebook called ‘BeST Night OF oUR LiveS - no. 23’
I don’t know either, but I genuinely feel sad when I wake up later than 8am now.
That isn’t to say that I never wake up later than 8am, I totally do, I just feel sad about it.
As opposed to at uni when 11am was early.
What I am realising, is that getting older, is actually just accruing and losing stuff.
In no particular order here are some things that I have gained and/or lost in past year,
Knowledge, friends, opinions, an affinity toward tidiness, a taste for white wine, a distaste for non-wireless headphones, a passport and the ability to sometimes not send a message in the heat of the moment.
Overall, I think what I have learned, is that the stuff you so desperately want when you’re little, is the stuff that you now want to Marie-Kondo away - so that you can cultivate the space to care about what’s important.
I usually do think grammar is important.
But being happy is importanter.
But being kind is the importantest.
(No-one knows what they’re doing so just pretend and hope for the best)
(I don’t know though - there might be some people who do know, I am just not one of them, yet. Maybe 26 will be my year, I will keep you posted)