From the outside, adults look like they know what they're doing.
They pay bills. Go to work. Make decisions. Talk like there's a plan.
So when you're young it's easy to think adulthood means finally having life sorted.
Then you grow up and find most adults are still working it out.
I thought it would get easier eventually. I imagined a point where everything made sense. No more confusion, no more hard decisions, no more problems. Just confidence and stability.
Then I got older.
The problems never disappeared. They changed.
As students we worry about exams. Then jobs. Then bills. Then relationships. Then responsibilities.
I've known people with more money than they ever imagined and the problems were still there. People with great careers whose lives weren't suddenly simple. People who looked like they had everything together and were still carrying something.
That was strangely comforting. Not because I wanted anyone struggling. Because it meant problems aren't a sign something has gone wrong. They're part of being alive.
Looking back, a lot of what once felt overwhelming doesn't anymore. Not because life got easier. Because I got better at handling it.
And maybe that's what growing up is. Not reaching a point with no problems. Reaching a point where they don't scare you the way they used to.