Spoken word version:
I'm sitting in my freshly cleaned, freshly made bed in my grown-up apartment about two days before I turn twenty-three. Yeah, I'm glad to leave twenty-two behind. It was the year someone told me they loved me for the first time, the year I started growing on TikTok, and the year I moved to a new city to pursue my dream. It was also the year that I had my first heartbreak, broke the blood vessels in my ankle, had to stop eating gluten, and dealt with a lot of really heavy shit alone.
So, now, as I sit and wait for my ritual Sunday night poke that I wouldn't be able to afford if I didn't make $113.74 from the TikTok creator fund this month, it's time to look ahead. In a few days, I'll be twenty-three. BJ Novak was 25 when he started writing on The Office. Mulaney was 26 when he started on SNL. My idol, Mindy Kaling, won an award at FringeNYC for Matt & Ben at 23. What am I doing? It's not that I thought I would be writing for SNL or The Daily Show by now, but didn't I?
Taylor Swift was right on the money when she said that at 22, I would be happy, free, confused, and lonely. But no one, not a single person, song, or TV show, has prepared me for life at 23. So is that my big project? Is a pilot about being 23 going to catapult me into comedy writer fame and get me a gig with Mike Schur? What do I do about the countless late-night packet guidebooks I have started and abandoned? Is my dream of working in comedy the same as my dream of working in politics? Am I ever going to write a script?
But I digress. No one likes guides you when you're 23. You're old enough to figure out part of it but young enough not to worry yet. I don't know what 23 will be, but now that I'm almost there, here are 22 things that I learned in my 22 years.
No one gives a fuck about you. It sounds harsh, but it's true. Outside of your group of friends (and maybe your extended circle), people do not pay attention to what you're doing.
Caveat: Unless you're the random person that a group of girls randomly becomes obsessed with for no reason (we all do it), no one cares. And those girls who are obsessed with you because you're a meme aren't even doing it to be mean. They just think you're fascinating and funny.
Listen to people when they tell you their M/O. If a boy tells you (months before you start dating, mind you) that long-distance isn't his thing, trust him. That's critical information that might keep you from sobbing almost every night of your last month of college.
Fall in love anyways. When you're 22 (and probably 23, 24, and 25), everything is the end of the world. You're going to experience falling hard and getting hurt, but there's no better time to do that than when you live with your friends who will record you screaming to All Too Well into a karaoke mic less than 30 minutes after you get dumped.
Stop jumping off of bars. You're allowed to dance on a bar for however long you want, but booze-related injuries stop being cute the minute your grad cap tassel moves from one side to the other. I promise no one will feel bad for you.
Don't try to be the cool, new employee at your first job. Taking on everyone's tasks will burn you out, make you at least 80% worse at whatever you're doing than you really are, and cause a potential mentor to resent you.
No one cares about the oxford comma, use it, don't use it, or be super inconsistent about it.
You don't need a pen-pal. Let dead flowers lie. Stop trying to be friends with your ex.
Eating disorders are not in. Upon moving into my new apartment, I reacquainted myself with my old habit of overeating and then drinking five cups of laxative tea to purge it. Not only are eating disorders bad in general, but all that water weight will make it worse.
Kill your darlings. Kill things you don’t like. Your twenties should be about curating a life you like.
If you think you're a bad person, you might be right. But, recognizing that you have iffy behaviors and seeking to change them is good and a sign that you won't be bad forever.
If something or someone hurts you or causes you trauma, you can talk about it, even if you don't think it's as big a deal as it really is. Talking (preferably to a professional) is healing.
On that note, your friends aren't your therapists, and you're a bad friend for treating them like it. Venting is fine, but sometimes it can hurt your friends in different but equally real ways as whatever you're venting about is hurting you.
College doesn't end. It just spreads out. Social scenes and groups never go away; they just change. The only people who think they don't exist are happy with their placement in their circle and feel comfortable with it. If you're really concerned about the "scene" and where you stand, work on your priorities and your level of security.
Do not save a guy's number until he gives you a ring.
Not a single person knows what they’re doing so if someone who you look up to tells you to “just do the thing,” they’re full of shit. Don’t call them on it though.
Seriously, pee after sex. It's not a joke. It's not a suggestion. It is not an option. Are you stupid?
You're still going to get acne. It's going to get worse. TikTok skincare trends won't help. Go to the fucking dermatologist.
Budgeting is important, but it's ok to splurge on Poke once a week.
Boys in the arts SUCK. If he does a capella or improv, you have to stay away. He's different? Grow up.
Get a hobby. Anything that you cannot monetize works. Stay as far away from hustle culture as you can.
Assuming closeness or familiarity with someone who you do not know is fucking weird. If someone is doing that with you, they're weird and probably have bad intentions.
Cry a lot and often. But then drink a ton of water to recover.