I’ll be completely honest: I’m not the mature 20-year-old that society tells me I should be. I blow bubbles. I read kids’ books. I color in coloring books (although I recently bought a very vulgar one and am very excited about it).

But, here’s the thing: these childish things make me happy. The genuinely help me relieve stress. I realized earlier this week that I use bubble blowing as a method of meditation and mindfulness. The sense of peace that I get from watching bubbles drift in the wind is incomparable to anything else. And yet, I can’t blow bubbles outside without getting judgmental stares from my peers, as if I must let these things go because I’ve reached a certain age.

And I’m perfectly aware of my adulthood. The number of times I’ve had to modify my resume this week alone just to apply to one job for post-graduation is insane, and I’m still not happy with it and plan on making more revisions. I get excited about coupons (because, holy crap, coupons). But, because I’m in a period of transition, I’m expected to make my new responsibilities as a functioning member of society my only priority and forget about the pastimes from my childhood.

This is incredibly puzzling to me. As adults, we’re encouraged to hold onto our hobbies. They make us well-rounded people. Some continue to play video games, some pursue music or art, others (like myself) make crafts. I also blow bubbles and color.

As a final note, there’s a quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., that I repeat almost daily. It was told to me by a teacher I had in middle school, and I refuse to let it go. It goes, “Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.”

So, you can grow old without me. I will continue to blow my bubbles and color in my free time, in the time I can find attending classes, running a student organization, volunteering, and conducting research. In those bubbles, I will find my peace as my inner child struggles to become a young adult with too many responsibilities and choices to make. I will not suffocate myself with unhappiness because society wants to make me forget the things that make me happy. And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll come join me, too. I mean, I do have extra bubble soap.