Yep. An adult is just a child with debts. If you are unlucky, the debts put you on a treadmill to nowhere, always running and always behind. Trying desperately to catch something you don’t really want, doing soul killing work that drains away any real you that might have been. A few get lucky and step off (or are thrown off) that killer path. An even luckier few rediscover who they were meant to be and get a second chance to be authentic. Most just keep running until their hearts and bodies give up.

When I was 17 I knew I never wanted to be a responsible adult, then I became one for 35 years. Finally a personal catastrophe destroyed that responsible adult. It’s taken 15 hard years, but I’ve found my way back to being 17, albeit an older, beaten up version. In the end, it has been worth the pain, but the lesson is: be very careful what you pretend to be, pretending the wrong thing can eat your life and make you miserable. Now I live a marginal, but contented existence, doing what I want, when I want, how I want. Wish I had known all this “back in the day.” :)

Honorary Schizophrenic. Recent refugee. Displaced person. Old white male. Confidant of cassowaries.

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