Hi, I'm Christina. I'm 21, almost 22. I recently graduated debt-free from an excellent university, and I am pursuing a lucrative and profitable career path. I am engaged to my high school sweetheart, and before this time next year, I will be a married woman. I have been loved, supported, and taken care of by many people for most of my life. Everyone I meet loves to tell me what a rich and wonderful time this is for me. How they are so excited to see my next steps. How I'm "on a great path." Each time I'm told, I smile and agree cheerfully. I laugh and dream, telling myself and others about my "plan." And then, in the moments I am alone, I am crushed by the weight of it all.

How spoiled and naive can one person be, right? All that stuff up there, it's promising! It's a step in the right direction! It's luck, or blessings, or whatever you believe in. I do not write this to say I am ungrateful for anything that I have been given. I recognize my good fortune and in no way mean to belittle the things everyone has ever done for me to make them happen. What I do mean to say, however, is that the future, at this moment, at this stage of my life, is more foreboding than it has ever been. It's as if I've arrived in a location people have been talking of for years. They've spoken of the beauty of it, the thrill of it. They've implored me over and over to know that their best moments were forged from this mysterious destination. Well, I've finally learned to use a map, and I've arrived...and it is frightening.

It is foggy here. It is lonely and unsteady. I trip and fall a lot. I hear noises everywhere; sometimes I run towards them, and other times I run far and fast in the opposite direction. Every time I take a step I am sure of, and it feels as though I am gaining solid footing, I am thrown backward and must start from further back. Life, I am learning, is nothing like college. College is everyone running the same race, and the times don't really matter as long as you finish. If you get lost, you can ask for help from another racer or a referee. There are officials around to make sure this race is run fairly. Life, real life, post-school life, is the end of the race. There are no more lanes, no directions and no officials. It feels a lot like free falling to me, and I am nervous.

I have heard tell of the mid-life crisis. That part of your life where you have too much stability. When your children are growing up and becoming independent. When your job seems like it will go on forever. When your house is likely the last house you'll live in and your next foreseeable crazy event is someone else's celebration, or worse, their death. I gotta tell you guys, I think you're processing this all wrong.

The life you have I crave with my entire being. It is the reason I wake in the morning and the dreams I have when I sleep. It is a fantasy for my fiance and I; we giggle about someday having a house, yes, a house all of our own! A bed to sleep in, the ability - no, the privilege - of paying bills. Having bills means you have the essentials. They mean you have running water, electricity, a car and a house. They mean you own things or are at least working towards owning them. Guess who doesn't pay bills? Homeless people. Wild animals. And worst of all, the unemployed college graduate. I lie in bed at night with my stomach in knots, dreaming of a someday in which I can confidently say "My life is kind of boring right now."

I am just beginning this expedition to boredom. It is exciting, yes, but in the same way that roller coasters and horror movies are exciting (and let me tell you, I am a fan of neither). The unexpected can be ecstasy when it works in your favor, but most times it is rough, wobbly and disappointing. I am calling this my quarter-life crisis; the unwritten story of me.

My first paragraph was the optimistic version of myself. What I see, and what I fear I will always be, is a part-time babysitter with a fancy college degree she never uses. She lives with her parents. She is terrified of applying to graduate school for the fear it will end with rejection and being more lost than before. She is unsure of where she stands and so compares herself to everyone she meets, which just makes everything much more confusing. She lives in constant worry that her life won't be a happy one, that her marriage won't be steady, that her line of work is over her head, that she will never become well-established, well-traveled and well-read. My friends, what will become of me?

Your 20-somethings are a whirlwind and a lot happens. Think about it. From 0-10, you're a kid and you go to school. From 10-20, you are a young adult and you go to school. From 20-30, you graduate, get a job, buy a house, get married, have children and become a parent. It is a large shift in everything we are accustomed to.

All this has been swirling around in my head, keeping me up at night, helping and hurting me. Driving me to be better and debilitating me with fear. I guess what I want to say is this: I am excited to be a 20-something. At least it means I am something, right? But my deepest desires want all this to end. I want to fast forward to a few kids and a modest house to come home to. To food in the fridge and my soulmate by my side. To rainy Sunday mornings and to throwing away our last moving box. To a 9-5 job, the occasional date night and to hearing my mom being called "grandma" in adoration. I even want the frustrations that come with it: the roof that needs to be re-shingled, the boss who emails constantly to ask me about x or y. The tiffs with Chris about chores and children. I don't know. At least it would be routine. Perhaps the moral of the story here is that adult life is a lot like this, but with bigger stakes and rougher rough patches. Maybe the fog I'm seeing comes and goes, sometimes thicker and sometimes offering small sunbeams of hope. Either way, I am here. I am ready. And I am on my way to boredom. If you'll excuse me, I think it's going to need my full attention.