Aging Is a Scam, But Here We Are

One day, you’re eighteen, swearing you’ll never wear neutral tones, never drink black coffee, never become someone who voluntarily wakes up early. The next, you’re twenty-something, staring at a $7 oat milk latte, wondering if your knee has always made that sound.

Aging in your twenties doesn’t feel like growing up. It feels like a glitch in the timeline. One minute you’re too young to rent a car, the next, your back hurts because you slept slightly wrong. It’s absurd. It’s rude.

But more than anything, it’s confusing.

When Did Everything Start Moving So Fast?

Time moves differently now. When you were a kid, a year was an era. Now, it’s a blink. Plans get made, canceled, and rescheduled indefinitely. Friends move away, people change, and somehow, you’re expected to keep up while still pretending to understand tax brackets.

The milestones are weird, too. No one claps when you do adult things. There’s no gold star for calling the dentist by yourself or finally understanding what a deductible is. You just do it, and life keeps moving, unbothered.

And yet, the little things betray you. Suddenly, high schoolers look like children. You find yourself saying things like, “Ugh, I can’t drink like I used to” after one cocktail. You watch old shows and realize you relate to the parents now.

The first time this happens, you laugh. The second time, it stings. By the third, you just accept it.

The Grief of Outgrowing Yourself

No one talks about how much aging feels like breaking up with past versions of yourself. There’s the you who lived for messy 2 AM adventures, the you who thought 25 was so old, the you who swore you’d never wear practical shoes.

You don’t lose them all at once—it happens gradually. You stop forcing yourself to keep up with trends that don’t make sense. You archive photos of a past life that no longer fits. You outgrow places, habits, even people, sometimes.

And you grieve it, in ways big and small. A song that takes you back. A friendship that faded without a fight. A version of yourself that you didn’t realize you were saying goodbye to.

But Then, You Start to Care Less. And It’s Kind of Nice.

Here’s the unexpected perk of getting older: you stop performing. You stop caring about looking effortlessly cool because, frankly, effortlessness is exhausting.

At some point, you start dressing for comfort. You start admitting when you’re tired. You stop pretending to like things you don’t actually like. You realize you’re not obligated to impress anyone, least of all strangers on the internet.

Aging, it turns out, is not about fading away. It’s about getting sharper. About shedding the weight of people-pleasing. About choosing what (and who) is actually worth your time.

Getting Older Feels Like a Scam, But Maybe It’s Not.

Look, aging is weird. It’s disorienting. It’s a little bit tragic, and a little bit hilarious. But the biggest lie we were told is that adults have it figured out. They don’t. No one does. Everyone is just faking it on a more advanced level.

So if time is going to keep moving, we might as well lean into it. Romanticize the practical shoes. Make peace with the back pain. Keep evolving. Keep laughing.

Because honestly? We’re still young. We just have better taste now.