(no subject)
I don't think of myself as an adult. Never have. However, 2020 had me scratching my head at what constitutes adulthood. I feel like, perhaps, the accumulation of various aches, pains, and mental infirmities builds up to a transition into adulthood. An adult is a broken child who validates the various ways in which he is broken as some sort of lessons in maturity which mere children have no grasp on. There are examples of this all over popular media. We define adulthood as something brought on by trauma, not growth. Maybe I rate as an adult from that perspective, but I still hope, perhaps foolishly, that there's more to growth than suffering and anguish. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.