Written by Lily Willows
I miss being little. I crave the nostalgia of scribbling stories into patterned notebooks, with no concern of appealing to readers and publishers, simply writing for joy. I collect jellycats and wear bows in my hair, reminders that I am, in fact, still young. “You’re so young”, people tell me, “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you”. Nevertheless, 22 seems universes away from being 10. Navigating early adulthood is exciting, as I grow into my adult face, observing crow’s feet sketched around my eyes. Why do I feel my life slipping away from my grasp in my early twenties? I crave the nostalgia of my childhood years, where choosing a career path felt so far into the distant future, that I could just enjoy the present.
In primary (and some of secondary school), my biggest ambition was to purchase the latest hardback Jacqueline Wilson book. My mum would take me to Waterstones every time and find me the best condition copy, carefully inspecting the pages and spines. I suppose my ambitions still remain somewhat literature based. I dream of the day I am able to create a career based on my love of writing, readers resonating with my poetry, articles and stories. I’m not confident I’ll ever be as successful as Jacqueline Wilson herself, but her passion for storytelling installed my creative streak to write, from a young age. Sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly nostalgic, I’ll find an old copy of Cookie or My Sister Jodie and immediately transport back to my childhood.
When did life become less about spontaneity and more about having a secure career? I used to dream of the life of an actress, an artist, an author. Now, I’m encouraged to choose a singular, stable, established career, which I can stay in for the remainder of my life. Peers graduated my degree with their whole careers mapped out, whilst I was still deciding whether to follow my head or my heart. In school, if I failed a Year 9 French vocabulary test, I could revise harder for the following week. If I was struggling to make friends, I knew I would find more likeminded peers at college, or at university. If I was still unsure about my career, I could try out different work experience options, without the worry of finding a paid position, to fund my life. My childhood seemed so full of chances to fail yet still return to my footing.
Currently, I’m anxious to make the wrong choice about the next stage in my career. Nobody truly prepares you for the daunting feeling you experience after graduating, spending your summer applying for various masters degrees, working as much as possible to gain income and experience. I spend much of my free time writing, sat on my bed, my childhood bear silently supporting me. Maybe the beauty of starting my early career is that failure isn’t truly failure. I am allowed to try out different options, in order to determine the best path for me. I believe failure is impossible, when you are trying your best to achieve your dream life. I’m proud of you.
Perhaps I’ll read this article back when I’m in my fourties, a proud owner of five cats, surrounded by my published works. Maybe I’ll laugh that I thought 22 seemed old. My early twenties have brought me more opportunities than any other life stage, the chance to enhance my career, the chance to fall in love, the chance to explore my true passions, the chance to make mistakes. In some ways, your twenties represent the childhood of your adulthood, the dawn of the rest of your life. As for the extra crow’s feet outlining my eyes, I am more than happy to home the ghosts of my laughter.
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