Metamorphosis – A Diary of My Twenties

I have always immersed myself in novels and films depicting the prime of one's existence – your twenties – hearing again and again about the difficulties of becoming your new self in a world that is your own to mould. These literary depictions shaped my understanding of this decade. However, I could never fully immerse myself in the sensationalised portrayal of youth, one where you could have a life-altering event occurring every other day, and an epiphany steering you in your destined direction. I felt so centred in my identity that I thought that this could not happen to me - a sentiment echoing my childlike optimism. Therefore, the ensuing existential crisis rattled my perception entirely.  

I always thought it was an oversold cliché, that I would discover my authentic self at this tumultuous age, that I should let myself be one with the waves and ebbs of my youth. I must say I am finding this very difficult. Adjusting to so much change and freedom all at once makes you reconsider what you really want, and what you believe you want simply because it seems like the predetermined path. I always thought going to university would create a clear way forward, opening up doors to a stable, passionate career, where work-life balance is prioritised and everything falls into place. This idyllic narrative has been endlessly engrained into our subconscious - the idea that merely having a degree is enough to stabilise the uncertainties of our futures, being a cushion to fall back on when doubt about our chosen path seeps in.  

Now, when faced with endless decisions regarding my impending graduation and freedom from academic constraints, I feel a sort of stagnation; an inability to act for fear that my decision will be (through my own measure) the “wrong” one, cementing myself in a future I will grow to resent. These fears wreak havoc on my consciousness, as I’m sure they do to many of my peers experiencing the same challenges.  

I find myself thinking of Gregor Samsa, the protagonist in Franz Kafka’s “Metamorphosis”. In the novel, Samsa woke up one day as an insect, struggling to reconcile his inner self with his transformed outer self. While adapting to his new form, Gregor felt the rift between his old life and his new identity – the gap between what he used to be and who he had become. I understand this liminal state, struggling to grow while hesitating to completely throw away the self you're familiar with. This rift is something I am still grappling with, unsure if anyone ever feels certainty with their decisions and the outcome.  

I am not a person who expresses their feelings often or openly, but I have laid bare my fears and thoughts before you. While it seems an overly pessimistic take on the excitement that is meant to be our twenties, I have found solace in the knowledge that I am not the only one facing this crossroad. I like to remember that my parents, and their parents, and their parents before that all experienced what it is to be a person growing into adulthood– faced with life-changing decisions and total uncertainty. With this knowledge in mind, I turn to T.S Elliot’s poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”: 

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions, 

And for a hundred visions and revisions…

These words remind me that while uncertainty persists in every aspect of life, this is not always harmful. The possibility for decision making only means that we have endless choices to make, and will never be defined by permanence, for better or for worse.