Becoming an adult

This one goes out to Josh, because he asks me this from time to time.

So, occasionally a friend of mine asks me what made me realize that I was an adult. My first answer, back when he asked, was socks. I bought my own socks, and that's when I realized, 'Wow, I'm an adult'. Because I was burning my disposable income on a quality of life item like socks instead of something strictly entertainment purposes. I'll admit It was a goofy answer and only half-serious, but it remained my answer almost six months later when he asked me again so I suppose it stuck.

But I had a thought on the way home today while I was mulling over a few songs I'd been listening to. There's one song in particular - "Car Radio" by Twenty One Pilots - that really caught my attention. In the song the singer has had his car radio stolen and he's stuck driving with only himself for company, no music to distract him from his own life. His thoughts run away with him, and he wants to replace it just so he can stop being forced to think about his life on every car ride.

I'm going to be brutally honest right now - no matter how put together everyone appears to be on the outside, we're all just a genuine invitation away from a complete stranger away from bursting out with every fear and misgiving we're dealing with in our lives. Some people do it in journals, some people do it in drunken conversations, some people do it on blogs using thinly veiled allusions, but we all want to get it out.

That brings me back to our protagonist, the radioless man. He's locked away inside the car he's driving, nothing to distract him from the dissatisfaction of his lot, and he's wrecked by it. He talks about his pride being on his sleeve, the dreams (his own) he's killed and says 'I could just pull the steering wheel.'

The french have an idiom for this - "L'appel du vide" or the call of the void. 'I could just pull this steering wheel'. Terrifying, horrifying even.

Back to being an adult.

We're all scared, we don't really know what to do. This is our lot, of course. For the last few years I've always thought I knew how everything worked. I was under the impression I had it all figured out, if I was just a bit better at translating the runaway train of thought and transferring it to paper I could quantify the words that would make it okay for everyone.

I know that I was wrong. I couldn't write it then and I can't write it now. It's certainly not socks. Truly, I may only have just become an adult on this 'car ride' myself.

Because the moment I realized I was an adult was the moment I accepted that I would never know what it meant to be an adult, that I'd always be scared of something. That finally having everything together was always just out of reach. That no matter how much we think we know, there's still something more to be learned.

But hell, what do I know?