Today, while looking in the mirror, I suddenly spaced out—I'm no longer 18 years old; in the blink of an eye, I've already stood at the threshold of my twenties. To be honest, I didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

Friends around me are starting to talk about marriage and having children, and the pace of life is so fast that it feels suffocating, as if just yesterday I was at home acting cute, waiting for hot meals, and sleeping until I woke up naturally.

I once thought that in my twenties I would become outgoing and smooth, but in reality, even the simplest family relationships are still awkward. I thought I would have a stable job, a considerable income, and travel with my partner to see mountains and sunsets, but the reality is that while marriage is right in front of me, I am still on the road searching for myself.

Life is urging me to make money, age is urging me to be sensible, and my body is urging me to be healthy. The world of adults doesn't seem to be happy. My youth, which was once as precious as gold yet insignificant, is also starting its countdown. Time has added years but hasn't turned me into a qualified adult. I am not ready yet, and I have reached the age where I need to be sensible. I once thought thirty was so far away.

Fortunately, life is ultimately merciful; it urges me to run and quietly leaves surprises around the corners. I am starting to learn to accept this clumsy yet real self. I may feel anxious about work late at night, but I can also smile at a ray of sunlight in the morning. I sometimes feel helpless in family relationships, but the reminders from my parents on the other end of the phone always warm my heart.

It turns out that growing up is not about suddenly becoming a perfect adult, but about learning to make peace with the imperfect self. The fear of turning thirty is probably similar to the worry of turning twenty back in the day. When you actually get there, you might find the scenery and calmness that comes with that age.