19

Today marks my 19th birthday. 19 is such a strange number. 18 somehow seems to carry more weight, and feels significantly older than 17. 20 of course marks the 2nd decade of one's life. But 19? It's just a transition. The year seems numerically and symbolically to be just sort of, well, there.

As I'm writing this it's currently 3:01am, so I've been 19 for a total of three hours so far. I used to stay up very late just thinking about things, but it hasn't been a habit as of late. But this particular night, I couldn't help but reflect on how 19 is the perfect number for me right now.

Lately, I've been feeling a profound lack of purpose. I guess this could be a common sentiment for the millennial teenager, and I'm probably more disturbed by this than I should be. But what ultimately disturbs me the most about all this is precisely that I don't feel very disturbed about the fact itself.

That's a bit of a confusing statement, so allow me to clarify. As far back as age 16, I recall having a desire to change the world in some meaningful way, to live my life in a way that was out of the ordinary. I wanted to avoid a passive existence, which I saw as nothing more than wasted time as death slowly encroaches on us all.

In my case, this nighttime philosophy rarely translated into any notable daytime action. I walked through life as an academic, elite high schooler much in the same way that my peers did. Although I like to think that differentiated myself in some way, I know that ultimately I bought into what was placed in front of me with little questioning. In the back of my mind, I figured I had to build up my foundation before attempting anything "world-changing."

This way of thinking was misguided. I see now that my existence up to this point is not something I can shake off easily. The habits and thought processes I have acquired are well ingrained into me. I never had to courage to be something different in high school, so it's not surprising that now, though I struggle with a desire to make some grander purpose in my life.

Such is the criticism that I find myself repeating with ever growing frequency as this final teenage year begins. So many people have invested in me, but what exactly should I do with this investment? Am I simply to serve myself and my immediate friends and family? How can I do anything meaningful? Cynicism is a funny thing. You rarely ever notice that you're cynical until you try to be optimistic. But because it is thus so infrequent, one begins to question whether it is cynicism or realism talking, and whether there is even a difference between the two.

When such feelings strike, I feel a powerful drive to overcome my halfheartedness and to do something impulsively, such as signing up for a job, or taking a class I'm not sure I'm comfortable in. Usually these are good decisions, because even if I fail, I've learned about myself and will be wiser for the next burst of "inspiration."

But there are also days where I feel that there's nothing wrong with a lack of grand purpose in life. There are plenty of people who live a simple, locally focused life (in terms of time and community.) They probably have generally happier days than me too. Or perhaps they don't.

My mother recently asked me to rate my life on a scale of 1-10. After complaining about "objectifying life experience" and other pretentious topics, I replied "10."

As I sit here almost upon my fourth hour of being 19, I realize that I feel pretty aimless. But the journey up to this point has been fortunate and joyful. When I think of this fact, I feel a sense of peace with myself, and I know that this inner strength is what will see me through this next year and the rest of them. So for now, I guess I'll leave the future to itself.