Bella Imperia: The things I don’t say

Adulting.

Why did we ever think growing up was the best thing since sliced bread? Why, as children, did we stare longingly into the distant land of adulthood as if it were some magical kingdom where freedom flowed like rivers and dessert could be eaten before dinner without consequence?

We could not wait to grow up.

We wanted to stay up late, make our own rules, drive cars, spend money, wear whatever we wanted, and answer to no one. We thought adulthood meant independence, glamour, and unlimited access to snacks. We believed the grown-ups had it made. They looked so powerful with their keys, wallets, and mysterious ability to go places whenever they pleased.

What fools we were.

That was not just a misunderstanding. That was a complete lie. A beautifully packaged scam sold to children by tired adults who needed us to behave.

“Enjoy being a kid while you can,” they would say with that knowing look in their eyes. We thought they were being dramatic. We thought they were jealous of our youth. We did not realize they were trying to warn us.

Because adulthood is not freedom. It is remembering passwords.

It is waking up tired no matter how much sleep you got. It is opening your banking app with one eye closed because you are not emotionally prepared for what you might see. It is wondering why groceries cost the same as a small vacation. It is paying bills for things you barely use and taxes for reasons no one can fully explain.

Who invented jobs?

Who decided that most of our lives should revolve around clocks, emails, deadlines, meetings, and pretending to be enthusiastic on Monday mornings? Who looked at existence and said, “You know what would make this better? Performance reviews.”

And bills.

Why does simply existing come with so many invoices? Electricity bill. Water bill. Internet bill. Insurance bill. Car payment. Rent or mortgage. Subscription charges you forgot to cancel in 2022. Every month feels like a new season of Surprise Expenses.

Then come the responsibilities.

No one tells you that adulthood is mostly solving problems you did not create. Something leaks. Something breaks. Something expires. Something needs renewing, replacing, cleaning, scheduling, fixing, updating, or apologizing for. There is always a form to fill out, a phone call to make, or an appointment to remember.

And the errands. Dear God, the errands.

There is no end to them. You complete three tasks and somehow five more appear, like a hydra made entirely of inconvenient obligations.

Even rest becomes work. You cannot simply relax anymore. Relaxing now requires planning, budgeting, scheduling, and recovering from the guilt of all the things you should be doing instead.

Yet somehow, despite all of this, adults are expected to remain composed. We are supposed to smile politely, answer emails professionally, remember birthdays, drink enough water, maintain friendships, pursue goals, save for retirement, and meal prep.

Meal prep? I can barely emotional prep.

And still, we continue.

We wake up. We clock in. We pay the bills. We fold the laundry. We make the calls. We pretend we understand taxes. We celebrate small victories like finding matching socks or making it through the week with groceries still left in the fridge.

Maybe that is adulthood in its truest form—not glamorous freedom, but persistent survival sprinkled with caffeine and sarcasm.

So no, growing up was not the paradise we imagined. It is chaos in sensible shoes.

But at least now, if we want cake for breakfast while crying over our utility bill, no one can stop us.

-Bella Imperia