Twenty five is supposed to be the age of building something, an age that has hopes and possibilities. But for him it does not feel like that. It feels like standing in the middle of a crowd that keeps moving forward, while he stays stuck in the same place. There is no excitement and no thrill of adulthood, only a pressure that settles with every passing day.
People around him often forget how their words hit. Some speak casually, some speak sharply, but most speak without thinking. Questions about work, about earnings, about progress, about career gaps come like routine blows. Every conversation points back to where he has not reached. The tone is rarely supportive. It is often a comparison, sometimes a complaint and occasionally a disguised insult. Over time it becomes normal to expect disappointment from people who were once trusted.
Values that were raised carefully start slipping away. He grew up believing that respect was something earned with character, discipline and honesty. But the world he faces now seems built on something else entirely. Pretence gets praised and Money gets respected. And he stands there with everything he thought mattered, watching it mean nothing in the eyes of others.
Being without a job at twenty five is treated like a shame. People do not ask what went wrong. They do not ask what he needs. They do not ask how he feels. They only ask why he is still where he is. Every question holds judgement. Every attempt to explain gets overshadowed by the simple fact that, society has no patience for uncertainty.
Disrespect becomes something he gets used to. The way people speak as if he has failed at life already. Family members whisper concerns, relatives compare him to someone else’s child, friends move ahead and slowly drift away. Nobody intends to break him, but each small moment contributes to the slow erosion of confidence.
Most days he does not feel twenty five. He feels older. Not in wisdom, but in exhaustion. There are mornings when he wakes up with a heft he cannot explain. Nights where he lies awake wondering what went wrong and why the world feels so unreachable, even when people are right beside him. The pressure of starting a life, building a future, proving worth and meeting expectations sits on his chest putting pressure.
He is not lazy. He is not unambitious. He is simply uncertain, confused. He is trying again and again, but nothing seems to move. Every attempt feels like pushing against a wall. And the worst part is pretending. Pretending to be fine. Pretending to be hopeful. Pretending that the future looks bright when the present feels suffocating.
Life at twenty five does not feel like youth. It feels stagnant. A place between what was planned and what is happening. A point where dreams feel distant and reality feels unforgiving. A stage where everything seems slipping just a little faster than he can hold.
But he wakes up because there is no other choice, and he gets through the day moving from one room to another, answering questions he does not want to, nodding at comments he does not agree with and just trying not to lose control. with no rush of motivation and no spark of inspiration, just a tired routine he follows because stopping would create problems he is not ready to face, even when the world disheartens him, even when confidence slips away and even when respect is nowhere to be found.
Twenty five does not feel wasted in an overt way, it feels empty in a draining way, as if something inside him is slowly fading without anyone noticing. He does not search for a way out with hope, instead he simply moves through the smallest possibility that might keep him from sinking further, and continues because that is all he can do through days that feel unsteady and unsure if anything ahead will ever truly change.
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