Adulthood. That magical time of life when you’re free to do whatever you want—provided what you want is pay bills, apologise to your Wi-Fi router, and pretend to understand council tax.
Today’s thought slices straight to the gut of it all:
“Being an adult is basically appendix surgery without anaesthesia.”
You’re wide awake, no one really explains what’s happening, and every so often someone yells “you’re doing great!” while handing you a mop and a mild panic attack.
It’s not that we’re anti-growing-up. It’s just that no one warned us it involved so much paperwork and a suspicious amount of broccoli.
So if you’re feeling overwhelmed, undercaffeinated, and mildly confused by your own insurance documents—you’re not failing. You’re just performing unsupervised surgery on the human condition.
Keep going. It’s all character-building. Allegedly.
Thank you for reading my writings. If you’d like to, you can buy me a coffee for just £1 and I will think of you while writing my next post! Just hit the link below…. (thanks in advance)
The Sage Page 