It’s spreading like wildfire: articles which depict the young adult as struggling to forge their own path in the big, bad adult world. They paint this romanticized image of the twenties/early thirties as this era of challenges and self-discovery. That’s not to say that it isn’t hard and that we don’t learn a lot about ourselves. But lately there’s something I’ve found to be a little exhausting about the existentialism of the aimless twenty-something.
I’m out on my own… what’s my purpose… why aren’t I married yet?
This kind of behavior in my opinion sounds very similar to the whining concerns of our teenage selves. We have all this independence and possibility, and instead we choose to revert back to angst-ridden teenagers. Why? Because we’re Generation Y-ers, and therefore there is nothing we love more than to have our voice heard. So it should come as no…
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