I Tried Adulting. I'd Like a Refund.

I woke up one morning with back pain, a calendar full of responsibilities, and a sudden emotional attachment to kitchen sponges. That's when I knew it finally happened. I had become an adult. No warning. No orientation. Definitely no refund policy.

When we were kids, adults made it look so glamorous. They had money, independence, and the authority to say things like, "Because I said so." What they failed to disclose is that money disappears immediately, independence comes with crippling anxiety, and the only thing you say confidently now is "I'll deal with that later."

Adulting is essentially paying bills and then asking yourself, "What exactly did I pay for?" Although at least right now, I didn't have to think of paying rent to exist, nor paying electricity to see, but I pay internet to survive emotionally. and after all that, my bank account looks at me and says, "You should've stayed a child." 

Let's talk about food. As a child, I dreamed of eating whatever I wanted. As an adult, I eat whatever is fast, affordable, and doesn't require emotional commitment. Dinner is often a deep, philosophical question: Should I cook? Order food? Or simple lie down and wait for hunger to give up? And why does food expire so quickly now? I buy vegetables with good intentions, place them carefully in the fridge, and two days later they've transformed into a science experiment. Meanwhile, instant noodles survive nuclear wars.

Sleep? Sleep no longer rest, it's a luxury subscription I cannot afford. I'm tired when I wake up, tired during the day, and mysteriously energetic at 2:47am. That's when my brain decides it's time to replay every embarrassing moment I've had since 2009.

Then there's the emotional side of adulting. No one prepares you for how proud you'll feel doing the bare minimum. I cleaned today. Not the whole house, just one specific area. But still. Growth. I deserve applause and perhaps a small parade. 

And don't get me started on social interactions. Making friends as an adult is just two people saying, "We should hang out sometime," knowing very well it will never happen. Our schedules are busy, our energy is low, and our preferred social activity is cancelling plans.

The most offensive part of adulting, though, is realizing your parents were right. Not about everything but enough to hurt your pride. Suddenly, you understand why they were always tired and why they got mad when lights were left on. Electricity is expensive. Peace is fragile.

I thought adulting meant having everything figured out. Instead, it's Googling things like "How long can you ignore an email before it becomes rude?" and "Is this a normal amount of pain or am I dying?" 

So yes, I tried adulting. I showed up. I paid the bills. I made lists. I forgot the lists. I survived another week on caffeine and hope. And honestly? I'd like a refund. 

If anyone needs me, I'll be lying down, mentally preparing myself to do responsible thing tomorrow.