Today is my birthday.

I am turning 24. I am entering my mid-twenties. I feel that this gives me some sort of authority to write about life.

Spoiler: it doesn’t. However, I'm feeling reflective, so I’m going to do it anyway. In addition to some general life advice, as I look back on the previous year (and oh, what a year it has been), I’ve noticed a few things about people, and about my peers in particular, that have given me a lot of cause for hope, and I would like to share these things with you now, because belief in my fellow humans is the best birthday present. Except, of course, for the new Buffy the Vampire Slayer board game, if anyone’s looking for ideas.

First, I’ve learned that no one has any idea what they’re doing with their lives. I always thought I was in the minority for not knowing how to function as a real human adult, but it would appear that is not the case. And to be perfectly honest, I take a lot of joy in not being the only one floundering about blindly hoping I’m doing things right. If we go down, at least we all go down together.

I’ve also learned the true, pure joy of embracing my inner child. I was recently in a toy store because looking at train sets helps calm my anxiety, and there was a small boy—he couldn’t have been older than three—playing with the set when I walked in. He didn’t really speak, but we shared a beautiful five or ten minutes pushing trains down hills and making crashing sounds together until his mother came to tell him it was time to go, and honestly few things have ever made me happier than those five or ten minutes. The biological imperative is real, people. It is very real.

I’ve learned that adversity truly does bring us together, and that we are stronger together. Watching the responses to the recent election has left me overwhelmed with love for the other individuals out there banding together to make their voices heard. It has proven to me that the faith I have always had in people has not been unfounded, and it has given me hope that, together, we will get through the next four years.

I’ve learned the power of a good cliché. I’ve always firmly stood up for clichés, as my rural Midwestern culture is full of them, but there are few things more satisfying than taking a moment to look at my choices as I walk to the hardware store in flannel and a beanie with a Fun Home key ring dangling out of my pocket and whistling “Take Me or Leave Me” from Rent, and realizing that I myself am a living cliché. Clichés are a language we can all understand because they have so pervaded our collective cultural understanding. Walking through my front door and into my parents’ arms last night and saying “there’s no place like home” does not express that there is actually no place like my family’s house (it’s a pretty standard Midwestern house), but instead conveys a deeply-felt emotion for which there are really no other words.

Basically what I’ve learned is to notice the incredible capacity of people to band together. Everyone is talking about what a divided nation this is. It’s north vs. south, liberal vs. conservative, Democrat vs. Republican, boomers vs. millennials. While this may be true to an extent, what I’ve found far more often in my daily life is the opposite. You may have to look for it, but when you do, you see a side of the world that is worthy of how much of ourselves we put into it.