I Don't Want to Spend My Twenties Just Chasing the Next Thing

I think one of my biggest problems is that I never really know when to be satisfied.

Not because I'm unhappy with my life. I'm actually grateful for a lot of things I have today. But my mind has this annoying habit of immediately moving on to the next thing, no matter what I achieve. When I was in college, all I could think about was getting a good job. I used to imagine how different life would be once I started earning, became independent, and didn't have to worry about placements anymore.

I genuinely thought getting that first job would take a lot of pressure off my mind. And then, in October 2026, I finally started my professional journey at Deutsche Bank. Something I'd spent so much time thinking about was actually happening. I was 21, working at a global investment bank, earning my own money, and slowly entering that phase of life I'd been waiting for. And you know what's funny?

Instead of just enjoying that moment, my brain had already started thinking about what came next. Am I earning enough? How quickly can I grow? What should my next move be? Am I doing better or worse than other people my age? Where will I be in three years? It was almost as if getting the job had simply replaced one set of worries with another. And that's when I started noticing something about myself.

I spend so much time thinking about the life I want that I sometimes forget I'm already living parts of the life I once dreamed about.

The things I once dreamed about are now part of my everyday life

I think the best example of this is my KTM Duke 250.

Ever since I was a kid, I've been crazy about bikes. I used to see people riding their motorcycles and imagine how amazing it would feel to have one of my own. And somewhere along the way, the Duke became that dream bike for me. I used to think about the day I'd finally have it. How I'd take it on long rides, explore different places, and experience that feeling of freedom I'd always associated with motorcycles.

Back then, it seemed like something that belonged to the future. Something that would happen someday. And now? I actually have that bike. I've gone on so many road trips with it, explored places I hadn't visited before, and made memories that I'll probably remember for the rest of my life. Sometimes I think about how strange that is. Something that once felt like such a big dream has slowly become a normal part of my life.

I can just pick up my keys, get on my Duke, and go for a ride. The younger version of me would've been ridiculously happy just knowing that. But here's the thing about human beings, or at least about me. We get used to things surprisingly quickly. Something you once wanted more than anything eventually becomes something you see every day. And before you know it, your attention has shifted to something else. A bigger bike. A better phone. A higher salary. A better lifestyle.

There's always something more. And I don't think wanting more is necessarily wrong. I still have plenty of dreams. I still want to own things, experience places, and achieve things that currently feel far away. But I never want to reach a point where the things I once prayed for stop making me happy simply because I've become too busy wanting something else. Because honestly, that would be unfair to the kid who dreamed about them in the first place.

Sometimes I feel like I'm already running out of time

This is probably the weirdest part about being 21.

Everyone keeps telling you how young you are and how much time you have ahead of you. But somehow, you still feel like you're late. Late to becoming successful. Late to earning good money. Late to figuring out your career. Late to becoming the person you imagined you'd be. And I think social media makes that feeling even stronger. Being someone who spends a lot of time on the internet, especially around tech and ambitious people, I constantly come across people doing extraordinary things.

Someone my age is earning an insane amount of money. Someone has already built a successful company. Someone is travelling the world. Someone just bought something I've been dreaming about. And then I look at myself. I'm 21. I've just started working. I'm still figuring out my finances, my responsibilities, my future, and honestly, even myself. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing pretty well for my age. Other times, I feel like I haven't achieved anything significant yet.

It's strange how quickly your perspective can change depending on whom you're comparing yourself with. I know comparison doesn't make much sense. Everyone has a different starting point, different circumstances, different priorities, and different definitions of success. But knowing something logically and actually convincing your brain to believe it are two completely different things. Especially when you're an overthinker like me. I can take one small thought and turn it into an entire discussion inside my head.

What if I had done something differently in college? What if I'd made a different career decision? What if I'm not working hard enough? What if I waste my twenties? And before I know it, I've spent an hour thinking about a future that doesn't even exist yet. I sometimes wonder how many perfectly good moments I've ruined simply because I was too busy worrying about what might happen next.

Growing up isn't as simple as I thought

When I was younger, I couldn't wait to become an adult.

I thought adulthood meant freedom. Earning money, buying whatever I wanted, going wherever I wanted, and not having to ask anyone for permission. And yes, some of that freedom is finally becoming real. But adulthood also comes with responsibilities that younger me never really thought about. Now that I've started earning, money means something different.

Earlier, I mostly thought about what I wanted to buy. Now I also think about how much I should save, how I should manage my expenses, and what kind of financial future I want to build. I think more about my family. I think about my parents and all the years they've spent taking care of things I barely had to worry about. I want to become financially independent, but I also want to be in a position where I can make their lives easier.

And sometimes, all those thoughts become a little overwhelming. There's this strange pressure to do everything correctly. Make good career decisions. Earn well. Save money. Maintain friendships. Take care of your health. Spend time with family. Enjoy your youth. And somehow find time to actually live. I don't know how people are supposed to balance all of that perfectly. Maybe they aren't.

Maybe everyone is just figuring things out as they go, and some people are simply better at making it look like they have everything under control.

I'm certainly not one of those people.

I don't want to forget the person I am while trying to become someone better

One thing I genuinely love about myself is that I still get excited about small things.

A random bike ride. A new place to explore. Spending time with friends. Buying something I've wanted for a long time. A good conversation that goes on much longer than expected. Or simply having a day where I don't need to worry about anything important. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to become someone whose entire personality revolves around work, money, productivity, and achievements. Of course, I want to be successful.

I want to become a really good engineer. I want to earn well, build things I'm proud of, travel, support my family, and give myself experiences I couldn't have imagined as a kid. But I also want to have stories to tell. I want to remember my twenties as the years when I went on road trips, met interesting people, made mistakes, tried new things, laughed at absolutely stupid jokes, and experienced life beyond my laptop and office.

I don't want every Sunday to become another day spent worrying about Monday. I don't want to cancel every plan because I feel like I should be doing something more productive. And I don't want to feel guilty every time I spend a day doing absolutely nothing. Because sometimes, doing nothing is exactly what I need. I'm beginning to understand that not every hour of my life needs to contribute to some larger goal. Some moments are valuable simply because they make you happy.

And maybe that's enough.

I wonder what my 30-year-old self will think about all this

Sometimes I imagine myself at 30.

Hopefully, I'll be earning more, have a better understanding of life, and be in a position where I can take care of the people who matter to me. Maybe I'll have achieved some of the things I'm dreaming about today. Maybe life will have taken me in a completely different direction. I genuinely don't know. But there's something I keep thinking about. What if I reach 30, achieve a lot of those things, and still feel exactly the same way?

What if I keep telling myself that happiness is waiting after the next milestone? At 21, I'll be waiting for 25. At 25, I'll be waiting for 30. At 30, maybe I'll be waiting for 35. And one day, I'll realise that I've spent my entire life preparing to be happy instead of actually being happy. That thought scares me more than the idea of not becoming extremely successful. Because I don't want my life to be one long checklist.

I don't want to look back at these years and remember only the interviews I was preparing for, the salary I was chasing, the money I was trying to save, or the things I hadn't achieved yet. I want to remember the feeling of riding my Duke on a beautiful road. The excitement of finally getting something I'd dreamed about as a child. Those ordinary evenings at home with my family.

The friendships, conversations, random plans, and memories that didn't seem particularly important while they were happening. I want to remember being 21.

Not just surviving it while waiting to become older.

Maybe I don't need to have everything figured out right now

I've spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of man I want to become.

Someone responsible. Someone independent. Someone who can take care of his family. Someone who does meaningful work and is respected for the person he is. And I still want all those things. But I'm starting to realise that becoming that person doesn't mean I have to stop enjoying being the person I am today. I can be ambitious and still be happy with what I have. I can work hard and still take a break.

I can care about my future without spending every waking moment worrying about it. I can want a better life without treating my current life as something that isn't good enough. I know I'm not going to stop overthinking overnight. I'll probably still compare myself with someone on the internet tomorrow. I'll still worry about my future, question my decisions, and occasionally feel like I should be doing more. That's just something I'm learning to deal with.

But I want to get better at recognising the good things while they're happening. Because the truth is, life has already given me moments that younger me would've been incredibly excited about. My dream bike is no longer just a dream. I've started my professional life. I'm slowly becoming independent. I have so many things to experience, so much to learn, and hopefully a lot of wonderful memories still waiting to happen.

And even though everything isn't perfect, I think there's a lot to be grateful for.

A note to myself, before these years become memories

If my future self ever reads this, I hope he remembers how much this version of me wanted to make something of his life.

How much I thought about the future. How excited I was about the smallest achievements. How badly I wanted to make my parents proud. And how I was constantly trying to figure out whether I was doing enough. But I also hope he remembers the good parts. I hope he remembers the rides, the friendships, the laughter, and all the random little moments that made being 21 special. I hope he's achieved some of the things I'm working towards.

But even more than that, I hope he's learned how to enjoy them. Because if there's one thing I'm beginning to understand, it's that there will always be another goal, another responsibility, another dream, and another reason to worry about tomorrow. There won't always be another chance to live today. I'm only 21. I have no idea what the rest of my twenties will look like. Maybe they'll be amazing. Maybe they'll be difficult. Probably a little bit of both.

But I don't want to spend them constantly feeling like I'm behind. I want to grow, make mistakes, learn, love the people around me, experience things, and occasionally stop worrying about whether I'm doing life correctly. And when I finally look back at these years, I hope I can say that I didn't just work towards a better future. I actually enjoyed getting there.

Because somewhere along the way, I don't want to forget that the life I'm living today was once the future I was so excited about.