The thing about a quarter-life crisis is that it doesn’t hit you out of nowhere. It’s a gradual spiral. A mid-life crisis (I would assume) happens seemingly overnight. One minute you’re conked out next to your wife, a Tom Clancy novel cracked open and laying across your chest, and the next you are wide awake, sitting up and thinking about your impending mortality and everything you thought you would have accomplished by now. You go out and look at investing in a sailboat even though you live in Nebraska, a basketball team because why not(!?) or other outrageous ways you can change your life in a nanosecond.
A lot of thoughts cross our delicate, 20-something minds when we’re in the middle of a spiral. The best part is when you realize that you may, and probably will, have multiple QCs due to student loan stress, fluorescent light rage, and the general anxiety of not being where 9-year-old you thought you would be by now. Congratulations and hang on, it’s going to be a bumpy ten years until 30 when you’ll hopefully have your shit figured out.
“Is it socially acceptable to wear sweatpants to this?”
“Is 10 a.m. too early to start drinking?”
“Should I go to grad school? What exactly is on the GRE? Is it multiple choice or essay form because I can defs bullshit my way through an essay test.”
“I’m going to actually go and buy groceries today.” Leaves grocery store with just ice cream, popcorn, and beer.
“I can’t ACTUALLY be the same age as Taylor Swift. That’s ridiculous.”
“I wonder if she’ll give me a grand if I run into her and compliment her lipstick after I go to her concert in August…”
“How is Brittany from high school building a house with her husband? She used to cut choir, the easiest fucking class in the world. How is she more of an adult than me?”
“How is everyone married and pregnant? If I got pregnant right now my mom would still treat me like a 16-year-old who believed her boyfriend when he said he’d pull out.”
“I should reactivate my OkCupid profile to just see what’s out there.”
“Nope. Everyone’s weird. I’m going to die alone.”
“I should try being a personal assistant. I bet I’d be good at getting someone else’s shit together.”
“I should become a personal trainer. Then I’d have no excuse to not work out.”
“I should just open a bar.”
“I should definitely open a bar.”
“How much masturbation is too much masturbation?”
“How much Netflix is too much Netflix?”
“JK there’s no such thing as too much Netflix.”
“When I spend all day tomorrow watching Orange is the New Black at work while keeping multiple browsers open, will anyone notice when I click away anytime it shows boobs?”
“Kristen is totally stealing avocados from the break room. I wish I’d thought of that first.”
“I wonder if the janitorial staff is getting trouble for the paper towels I’ve been swiping? I should take a note from Kristen and switch to snacks.”
“Does my health insurance stop the day I turn 26, or the first of the following YEAR after I turn 26? Because I’m probably going to need that shit the day after my birthday, if we’re being honest.”
“How much is going to come out of my paycheck if I go on the company’s health insurance?”
“Will they just pay for it for free and call it a bonus? That’d be sweet.”
“I’m never getting promoted.”
“I should look for a new job.”
“Working on the internet would be pretty sweet. Sweatpants are always socially acceptable on the internet.”
“I wonder how those kids doing the videos at Buzzfeed got that gig. I’m just as funny as they are?”
“I wonder what my ex is up to?”
“Oh great! He’s engaged. Allow me to make an ice cream-and-beer sundae and cry into it.”
“I should open an ice cream-and-beer sundae food truck.” .
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