Act My Age

The world is divided into those who get married on time and those who still dye their hair and sleep in hotels. And it seems like it's all about choice, but it's actually about longing for something specific that no one can name out loud. It's funny, of course, to look for the meaning of growing up with a glass of whiskey in your hand and another unsuccessful Tinder date, but you have to figure out what's going wrong somehow. The city changes the rules: here you can be anyone you want, as long as you're not boring. You can go to church and still sin, write songs instead of resumes, change addresses faster than you change social media statuses. And inside, it's still the same question: when exactly does life turn from an experiment into reality? It seems the answer is lost somewhere between the bleached bangs and the guitar that feeds but doesn't save.