Can 26 be the new 6?

Before anyone says anything, I know 26 isn’t old. I don’t even feel the need to qualify that by saying it isn’t that old. In the grand scheme of this adventure called life, I’m just a young’n. But that hasn’t stopped what I can only assume is a belated quarter-life crisis coming on. When I was young(er), 26 seemed so very mature. Surely by now I would be running a newspaper, head of a giant global company or, at the very least, have become the Pink Power Ranger. But I’m not. I’m about to move to the other side of the world.

I understand this is a huge opportunity and everyday I’m told how lucky I am and how jealous everyone else is. Even as I’m writing this I’m wondering what I have to complain about. But that still doesn’t stop the nagging feeling that I’m really not sure what I want to do. I am about to be unemployed for an indefinite period of time. That’s not an ideal situation for someone who has had most of their life planned out since she was 12. Actually it was probably before that but admitting that seems a little sad.

At 26 I feel like I should have done a lot more by now. I don’t know what I mean by more, but the wrinkles and grey hairs make me realise the days of being completely irresponsible are gone. However, future 36-year-old me would probably have a fit knowing I wasted a good few minutes of being 26 whinging about it. I may not know what I want to do yet, so I shall for the time being just do fun things. Hopefully they work out to be the same.