“Well the young man, he ain’t got nothing in the world these days.” 

There are things that have been cropping up in my recent life that have made me feel very very old. Weary. Worn, even. 

I don’t mean that I’m suddenly realizing that I’m 26 and I’m disillusioned with the pop culture du jour and the idiotic recklessness of teenagers. I don’t even mean that I stagger in shock when I realize that this year’s college freshmen were born in the 1990’s (although that did throw me for a loop when I first did the math.)

It’s something much deeper than that, something I actually didn’t see coming and would never have guessed about myself if you’d asked me even as recently as a week ago. I feel older than a mere 26 in a number of ways and it seems I’ve undergone a sort of disheartened dropping of the veil that has gradually occurred when I wasn’t paying attention. 

Sometime when I wasn’t looking, I became experienced and a bit more understanding. Of a lot, actually. I woke up suddenly with deeply rooted knowledge of things that my younger self would have balked at and resisted fervently. These days I chuckle at the absurdity of childish mind games I used to spend hours submerged within, I snort mockingly in the face of empty flattery,  I tap the ashes off my mental cigarette and raise an eyebrow in amusement when people believe they’re pulling the wool over my eyes. It’s not so much that I’ve become cynical, because I still have ideals built on wild optimism that I consider to be realistic despite the naivete they might allude to. But moreso that I’ve become both wary and accepting of human nature, relinquishing the desire to change everything and everyone, yet still maintaining optimism that everyone has potential good buried somewhere inside them. 

There’s a certain powerlessness that sets in after the abrupt realization that every person is only guaranteed a one-line synopsis about their identity, their life when it’s all said and done. This realization, of course, sets in motion an obligatory quarter-life (sometimes later) existential crisis in which one’s mind becomes riddled with the “Why am I here?”s and the “What does it all mean?”s. Hell, it’s easy to plummet into despair when one even takes the time to whittle down the true value of themselves even with regards to the people in their immediate lives. It all suddenly becomes overwhelming and usually leads to a lot of denial and postponement in which this person buries him/herself under a pile of bottles or pills or naked bodies or paperwork or credit card bills or possessions, etc. 

But immediately following this pretty typical freak-out is the renewal of power within one’s own personal being. Soon arrives the selfish notion that, if nothing else, your life means the absolute world to your life. It’s all very self-contained and liberating in the sudden detachment this realization provides from the restraints of societal expectations, both from the General Society Planning Committee (not related at all to the Illuminati, or the Dunkin Donuts corporation, by the way. I asked.) and from one’s immediate personal audience (which may or may not include the Illuminati or Dunkin Donuts, based on your particular lifestyle choices. I don’t judge.) Suddenly arises this refreshing independence that allows this newly-awakened person to start considering life from the outside in, which is accompanied by such questions as “What people do I really give a shit enough about to keep around?” and “Why in God’s name do I own all this superficial bullshit?” and “Why am I wasting all my time with thus-and-so?” Naturally following this is the abandonment of taking everyone else’s actions so damned personally and, from this, a whole restructuring of the mind is put into motion and priorities shift and motivations change and yackety schmack so-on-and-so-forth. 

I’m at the place just after that, where the great shift has all taken place, the dust has settled, and now I’m just sitting back, functioning on a slightly higher level of awareness than before, and awaiting the next major adventure/lesson/sale. This is where I’ve set and become comfortable with my standards for my time management, my company, and the energy I spend on both. I’ve made mental agreements about the sort of lifestyles I’ll no longer tolerate, and I’m pretty resolute in the issues and situations I will and will not waste my energy on from now until forever.

Which is why, when I’m taken for a foolish/naive ingenue figure, I can’t help but snort loudly at such an asinine insult to the life I have experienced and the terrifying bullshit I have waded through. (I’m not out proclaiming myself to be some great martyr or survivor of a soul-deteriorating life or anything, but I’ve certainly seen and experienced enough to confidently describe myself as “seasoned”.) However, instead of reeling in offense to these various blatant disregards to my character (or running to my friends to talk smack about my offender) like I would have in my younger years, I’m genuinely only amused by the audacity and ignorance of the person working against me. It’s a weird new trend for me, but instead of sitting around and beating myself up for the stupidity of someone else’s attempted manipulations, I sit back comfortably and quietly smirk at their obliviousness, their cocky certainty in underestimating my awareness. 

I know, this all sounds completely arrogant. Look, it’s not like I spend my days reclining on my laurels, feeding myself grapes on this great pedestal I’ve built for myself or anything. I don’t consciously think to myself “God, I rock. Why can’t all these other little people see that?” and I certainly don’t believe I have anywhere near the amount of Answers I should have to reach true happiness and enlightenment and nirvana. In fact, it’s a rare occurrence when I come right out and admit my capabilities at all. But there is a great amount of self-comfort and reassurance that I’ve recently experienced in being able to see the complete transparency of most people.  It gives me a little unexpected confidence and the new idea that maybe I can start taking care of myself, maybe I do have the wherewithall to hold my own in the inevitability of human drama and general interaction, maybe I don’t have to cling so tightly to people who will swat away emotionally dangerous figures for me.

Maybe, just maybe, I was blessed with two fully functioning legs and a receptive, adept mind that can choose, all on its own, whether I stand my ground or run for my life.   

And if I choose to point and laugh at the idiocy of my antagonist before walking away, then that’s okay, too.