They Lied About The 20’s.
They lied, lied with their whole chest, in graduation speeches, Instagram captions, coming-of-age films, and every soft-focus novel where the heroine finds herself in Paris with nothing but a notebook and a dream.
They said it with such confidence, such gleaming white teeth and unearned optimism, that I believed them.
But here I am, very much in my twenties. A student. Still sending “Please help me with small money” texts to my parents. And I already know it was all a beautiful lie.
Maybe not a malicious one. Just a misguided, overly romanticized one.
Because no one talks about the other side of the twenties: the identity crises tucked between lectures. The constant confusion. The half-baked adulting. The pressure to be soft and fiery at the same time. The slow grief of realizing the life you imagined at sixteen might take longer, or look nothing like you thought.
Still, despite the chaos of this decade they so confidently called my prime, I live like I’m already in my thirties… maybe 20%, on a good day. I’ve learned that peace is something you choose. That leaving quietly speaks louder than any dramatic exit. That not everything deserves a response, not everyone deserves access, and not every feeling needs a performance.
I’ve started saying no and meaning it. Choosing solitude over noise, clarity over chaos. I no longer explain myself to people who listen just to reply. I no longer chase people who make me question my enoughness.
That’s the part no one tells you: your thirties aren’t a cliff you fall off from, they’re a quiet, steady rising. A shedding. A soft becoming. It’s not loud or obvious, but one day, you look around and realize you’ve outgrown versions of yourself you once fought to protect. And some of us, inwardly, are already halfway there, not in age, but in soul.
They lied about the twenties or maybe they just didn’t know better. Maybe they never slowed down long enough to feel the ache beneath the glitter. Maybe they never met women like me, women who are 23 going on 33 in spirit and bear in mind i turn 24 August 2025. Women who still depend on their parents for bills, but already carry the emotional cost of growing up too soon.
I’m not in my prime yet. But I’m preparing. And when thirty comes, I won’t be shocked. I’ll be ready. Because I’ve already begun the becoming.