Chapter 21 — Somewhere Between the Boy I Was and the Man I'm Becoming

When I was a kid, I used to think life would be pretty simple once I grew up.

Get a good job, earn money, buy the things I've always wanted, travel wherever I feel like, and live without having to ask anyone for permission. That was pretty much my definition of adulthood. I genuinely believed that once I turned 21, I would have most things figured out. And now that I'm actually 21, I sometimes laugh at how innocent that thought was. Because the older I'm getting, the more I'm realising that life is a lot more complicated than I ever imagined.

Not necessarily in a bad way. Just different. There are things nobody really prepares you for. Things you don't understand by reading books, watching videos, or listening to someone else's advice. You only understand them when life starts happening to you.

And I think that's what this chapter has been about for me.

The strange thing about growing up

One of the weirdest things about turning 21 is that nothing really changes overnight.

You're still the same person. You still laugh at stupid jokes, waste time scrolling through your phone, get excited about little things, and sometimes just want to take your bike out for a long ride without thinking about anything. But somewhere in the back of your mind, something has changed. You start thinking about things that never really bothered you before. What am I going to do with my life? Am I making the right decisions?

Will I be able to give my parents the life they deserve? What if I fail? What if everyone else moves ahead and I'm still figuring things out? And being an overthinker makes all of this ten times worse. I can turn one small decision into twenty different possibilities in my head. Sometimes I worry about problems that haven't even happened yet. It's funny how, as a kid, I couldn't wait to grow up.

And now, sometimes, I wish I could spend just one more day being that kid whose biggest problem was figuring out what to do after school. Not because I hate growing up. But because I didn't realise how peaceful life was when someone else was taking care of all the difficult things.

Money starts looking different

I think one of the biggest changes in your early twenties is how you start looking at money.

When I was younger, money was mostly about the things I wanted. A good phone, a bike, something expensive that I'd been dreaming of buying. I used to think earning money meant being able to buy whatever I wanted without having to depend on anyone. But now that I've entered the working world, I'm beginning to understand that earning money and understanding money are two completely different things. You start realising how much time, effort, and energy go into earning even a relatively small amount.

Suddenly, spending doesn't feel quite the same. You look at a price tag and sometimes think about how many hours of your life it represents. You begin to understand why your parents used to think twice before buying something for themselves, even when they didn't hesitate to spend on you. As children, we see what our parents give us. As adults, we slowly begin to notice what they might have given up to make those things possible. That realisation hits differently.

I still want to earn well. I still want nice things, to travel, to own things I've dreamed about, and to enjoy the money I work for. I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting those things. But now I also want something else. I want to reach a point where an unexpected expense doesn't create panic. Where I can help my family without having to calculate everything twice. Where money gives me choices rather than becoming the only thing I think about.

I'm beginning to understand that money isn't everything. But pretending it doesn't matter is something you can only comfortably say when you don't have to worry about it.

You start understanding people differently

This is probably one of the most uncomfortable parts of growing up.

Friendships. When you're younger, you think the people you spend the most time with will always be your closest people. You make plans about the future, talk about doing everything together, and assume that things will stay the same. But life doesn't really work like that. People change. Their priorities change. Their schedules change. Sometimes their personalities change too. And yours does as well. You gradually begin to understand that knowing someone for a long time doesn't automatically mean you have a meaningful friendship.

Some people are genuinely happy when something good happens to you. Some people are there when things aren't going particularly well. Some people only seem interested when there's something they need. And sometimes, people you expected very little from surprise you by being there when it actually matters. I think one of the hardest lessons is realising that not everyone you care about will care about you in exactly the same way. But I'm also learning that not every friendship that fades was fake.

Sometimes two people simply grow in different directions. Nobody has to be the villain. There doesn't always have to be an argument, a betrayal, or some dramatic ending. Sometimes the conversations just become less frequent. You stop meeting as often. And one day, you realise you're no longer as close as you used to be. I've started thinking that maybe growing up isn't about having more friends.

Maybe it's about understanding which relationships are worth your time, which ones need effort, and which ones you shouldn't have to force. I'm still figuring that out.

And I probably will be for a long time.

Your parents start looking more human

There was a time when I thought my parents had answers to almost everything.

As a kid, you just assume adults know what they're doing. They make decisions, manage money, solve problems, and somehow keep everything running. You rarely think about what's going on inside their heads. But the older I'm getting, the more I realise that they're figuring life out too. They have worries they don't always talk about. They have dreams they may have postponed. They get tired, they make mistakes, and there are probably hundreds of things they've done for us that we'll never fully understand.

And the strangest part? You slowly begin to notice that they're getting older too. It's something I don't particularly enjoy thinking about. For most of our childhood, our parents are the ones taking care of us. Then one day you start wondering when it will be your turn to take care of them. Not because they've asked you to. But because you want to. I think that's one of the first moments when responsibility stops feeling like something people force upon you.

It starts feeling like something you choose. And maybe that's a small part of becoming a man. Not being the loudest person in the room or pretending to have everything under control.

Just becoming someone the people you love can depend on.

The pressure nobody really talks about

There's another thing about being 21 that I find strange.

You're young enough for people to tell you that you have your whole life ahead of you. But somehow, you're also old enough to feel like you're already running out of time. Open social media and there's always someone your age doing something extraordinary. Someone earning an unbelievable amount of money. Someone starting a company. Someone travelling the world. Someone buying their dream car. Someone who seems to have figured out exactly what they want from life.

And then there's you, sitting there wondering whether you're doing enough. I know comparing myself to everyone else doesn't make sense. Everyone comes from a different background, has different opportunities, and is fighting battles you might never know about. But knowing that doesn't always stop the comparison. Especially when you're someone who overthinks everything. Sometimes I feel proud of how far I've come. Other times, I look at where I want to be and feel like I've barely started.

Both feelings can exist on the same day. I'm learning that ambition is a good thing, but constantly treating my current life as something I need to escape isn't. Because if I keep telling myself I'll finally be happy after the next achievement, the next salary increase, or the next big milestone, I might spend my entire twenties waiting to enjoy them.

And that's something I really don't want.

I still want to be that kid sometimes

With all this talk about money, responsibilities, and growing up, there's one thing I don't want to lose.

The part of me that gets excited about little things. The kid who used to dream about owning a KTM Duke. Back then, having my own bike felt like such a big dream. And now I actually have one. Sometimes, when I take my Duke out for a ride, I'm reminded that there was a younger version of me who would've been unbelievably happy just to be where I am today. It's easy to forget that when you're constantly thinking about what comes next.

I've spent so much time looking forward that I sometimes forget to appreciate the things I've already experienced. The bike I once dreamed of. The memories I've made. The people who've been part of my life. The freedom I have now that I wanted so badly when I was younger. I don't want adulthood to turn me into someone who's so occupied with building a future that he forgets to live in the present. I want to work hard, earn well, and take responsibility.

But I also want those random road trips, late-night conversations, stupid jokes, unplanned days, and moments where absolutely nothing productive happens. Because I don't think life should be measured only by how much you've achieved. Some of the best memories probably won't have anything to do with achievements at all.

Maybe becoming a man isn't what I thought it was

Growing up, I used to associate being a man with independence.

Having money. Being confident. Making your own decisions. Not needing anyone's help. But my understanding of that is changing. I don't think becoming a man means never being confused or scared. I don't think it means pretending everything is fine when it isn't. And I definitely don't think it means having an answer to every problem. Maybe it's about being able to admit when you're wrong. Being careful with the trust someone places in you. Understanding that your decisions can affect people other than yourself.

Knowing when to walk away from something, when to stand up for yourself, and when your ego is creating a problem that doesn't need to exist. Maybe it's about being kind without being naive, ambitious without becoming selfish, and responsible without forgetting how to enjoy life. I'm nowhere close to mastering any of these things. There are days when I act maturely and days when I look back and wonder what on earth I was thinking. But at least I'm beginning to notice the difference.

And I think that matters.

The hardest person to understand is sometimes yourself

I've always been someone who thinks a lot.

Sometimes too much. I think about conversations long after they've ended. I wonder whether I made the right choices. I imagine futures that may never happen. There are times when I want to achieve ten different things at once. And there are times when I don't even know what I really want. I'm slowly understanding that not every thought deserves my attention. Not every person needs to understand me. Not every decision will turn out perfectly. And not every problem needs to be solved tonight.

That's easier to write than it is to practise, obviously. But I'm trying. I used to think that by this age, I would know exactly who I was. Instead, I've started questioning things I once believed about myself. What kind of life do I actually want? What kind of people do I want around me? Am I chasing certain things because I genuinely want them, or because everyone around me seems to want them? What does being successful even mean to me?

I don't have clear answers yet.

But these questions feel more important than they used to.

A little note to my future self

If I ever come back to read this at 25, 30, or even 40, I hope I remember what being 21 felt like.

The excitement of finally starting my adult life. The pressure of trying to make something of myself. The confusion about people, money, relationships, and the future. The constant overthinking. And somewhere in the middle of all that, the happiness of being young, having dreams, and still believing there's so much more waiting for me. I hope future me has accomplished at least some of the things I'm currently dreaming about.

But more importantly, I hope he hasn't forgotten how to be happy without needing a reason. I hope he still goes on random bike rides. I hope he's made his parents proud, not just through achievements, but through the kind of person he's become. I hope he's surrounded by people he can genuinely call his own. And I hope he's learned to be a little less hard on himself. Because right now, at 21, I'm realising something.

Life doesn't suddenly become easier when you grow up. You just slowly become someone who's better at handling it.

I don't know how the next few years will turn out. Maybe some of my plans will work. Maybe some won't. Maybe the things I want today won't even matter to me five years from now. But that's okay. For the first time, I'm beginning to understand that growing up isn't a destination you reach on a particular birthday. It's something that happens quietly, through ordinary days, difficult decisions, changing relationships, small victories, and mistakes you wish you hadn't made.

And somewhere through all of that, you become a slightly different person. So here's to Chapter 21. To figuring out money, friendships, responsibilities, and myself. To being a little scared of the future but still excited about it. To making mistakes and hopefully learning from at least a few of them. And to the boy I used to be, who couldn't wait to grow up.

We're finally here, little bro.

It's not exactly how we imagined it.

But I think we're going to be alright.