I am officially a 20-year-old.
Light the candles, pop the sparkling cider. A new chapter has begun.
Many people say that this will be the best decade of my life.
My main point of reference are the many TikToks of middle-aged folks on podcasts talking about how incredible your twenties are. My dad sends me a lot of those videos with encouraging quotes like “see, you’re not doing bad!” or “your twenties are awesome.”
True, being 20 seems great, according to my dad and these podcasters. It’s a time to push boundaries and do all the things I never thought I could.
Twenty is a fabulous number. I like things that are 20. I have a lot of friends who are 20. I like having $20 and the song “$20” by Boygenius.
Being 20 is a whole different story for me. It’s a period in my life that I never thought would actually come. Nineteen wasn’t a real birthday, it was like a waiting period between 18 and 20. I was comfortable waiting. I had a hard time accepting that it would even end.
But the clock struck midnight on Dec. 2, and there I was — 20-years-old lying in my twin XL bed. I looked at the stray Nerds Gummy Cluster on my bed and my perfectly pink jammies and realized that it was actually here. I looked at my surroundings and confidently confirmed it.
This is 20.
I don’t really remember what little Sophia thought life would be like at this point. I don’t think I thought of my 20-year-old self. A decade ago, I was an aspiring clarinetist dreaming of attending Yale University for journalism. I was also fond of moustaches, fought for the right to have sleepovers and secretly dreamt of being an author/singer/actress.
A decade later, I am here, at Boston University, studying English with a minor in theater arts. My interests include singing, improv, Shakespeare, going on outdoor walks, writing, musical theater, Instagram, art museums and having fun. I still have similar dreams, but the pathway is different from what I anticipated.
Ten-year-old Sophia would be a little confused.
The idea that I may be just as confused by my 20-year-old self at the age of 30 is horrifying. But I feel that way about my senior year self. She would have never thought that I would find happiness in a major that wasn’t centered on performing, love a good party or cut a significant portion of my hair off in a Warren Towers bathroom.
The idea that many, many surprises lie ahead can be terrifying. I know people who are in their twenties who already have kids, completely changed career paths or bought their first home.
These surprises are much bigger than cutting hair.
This seems to be the decade of milestones, and I worry that the ones I want may never come. My twenties should be just as epic as these TikTok podcasters say. Many of my dreams could be completed within this decade.
I would love to have the career of my dreams. I want to explore Europe with my little sister. I’d love to be in a happy relationship. The list keeps growing. And while 10 years is a lot of time, who knows if this decade will provide everything that I hope it will.
It’s a thought that has been keeping me up at night.
I am, admittedly, scared.
There is promise in the unknown.
Coming to BU was an unknown — it was a departure from what I thought I needed, and then ended up being everything I needed. Moments like that — where I said yes to something I normally would turn down — have ended up bringing me the most joy. I signed up for my high school improv troupe as a backup plan. I took my first art history class because I figured it would be good to step out of my comfort zone.
Maybe my twenties will not be the exact iteration of my wildest dreams, and maybe that’s the fun part.
Letting go of any expectation is the first step. I need to accept the idea that part of the excitement of my 20s lies within the unknown. That will probably come with some rough patches. The rough, however, makes the good times, great. The roller coaster of life is a ride I can’t get off of, so I might as well enjoy every turn it takes.
I’ll embrace it all. Every messy, sticky, crappy, joyous moment this decade has to offer.
This is 20.
