“Your twenties are the best years of your life!”
A beautifully packaged delusion that’s been shoved down our throats since we were, like, 15. Your twenties were marketed to you like a rom-com: you’d have your dream job in fashion, finesse your way through hot restaurant openings and make out with a mysterious man who smells like Le Labo outside a dive bar in Nolita.
Yet, they conveniently forgot to mention crying in a bathroom stall because you hate your boss. Or pretending you’re totally fine after the situationship “you didn’t even care about” ends. Or having exactly $200 in your checking account and three birthday dinners this week.
And yes — before you panic that this “I hate my 20s” narrative is overdone — I know. I KNOW.
But here’s the thing: this one’s personal. It’s where I am right now, smack in the middle of the beautifully chaotic, not-so-glamorous reality of being 26.
The age where half your friends are ring shopping and the other half think 401(k) is a DJ who headlines at the Mirage. It’s the age of limbo — too old to be blacking out every night, too young to know what the hell you’re doing.
So buckle up, babe. I’m going to tell you the truth about being 26 — and it’s not always cute.
Not knowing what the f*ck you want to do with your life
By now, you’ve either switched jobs three times because you still have no clue what you actually want to do, stayed at the same one for four years out of fear of the unknown or got laid off (again), thanks to those mysterious “budget cuts.”
You’re refreshing LinkedIn more than TikTok and watching strangers get promoted at Amex or Deloitte while a recruiter ghosts you for a role you didn’t even want that badly. It sucks.
Dating is an actual horror movie
The men on the apps fall into three terrifying categories: aggressively below your standards, suspiciously emotionally intelligent (but still mysteriously unavailable) or chronic re-matchers who ghost you like it’s their full-time job.
At 26, you’d think people would be ready for something real — but plot twist: they’re still “figuring themselves out.” Some of them are 32 and treating “not looking for anything serious” like it’s a cute little personality trait.
The pressure to date? Even worse
It’s not just that dating sucks — it’s that everyone suddenly wants to talk about it. Like, all the time. Your relationship status becomes public discourse. In your early 20s, being single was normal, even kind of fun.
Now? It’s a hot topic everywhere — from your grandma’s 80th birthday party to bottomless brunch at Felix. There is literally nothing worse than your non-single friends asking you if you went on any hinge dates this week. No, I didn’t, Lex, but not for a lack of trying.
Feeling disconnected from friends
Everyone’s on completely different timelines now. Some friends are getting engaged; others are still blacking out at Joyface and texting their exes. And while you still love them, you’re not always in the same headspace anymore.
The girl you used to take tequila shots with every Friday? She’s now posting TikToks about her 6 a.m. matcha routine and reading Colleen Hoover in a candlelit bath. You’re still close — but it’s different. It’s harder to feel deeply connected when no one’s living parallel lives anymore.
The comparison spiral
We know comparison is toxic. We know everyone’s on their own timeline. We know Instagram is just a highlight reel. And yet… why is everyone soft-launching a move to London while I’m hard-launching a new anxiety symptom every week?
The more paths people take, the more you start to question your own. Or worse — you don’t feel like you’re on a path at all. Just loitering at an emotional rest stop with no Waze signal and a phone on two percent.
Constant transitions
Every five minutes, you’re in a new life transition. New apartment, new job, new situationship, new therapist. Change is the only constant — and it’s utterly exhausting. Even the good changes, the ones you thought would be exciting or empowering, come with this overwhelming weight. Change isn’t just a buzzword at 26 — it’s a relentless, exhausting marathon that never gives you a break.
But also, stagnation
And when you aren’t in a transition? That’s somehow even worse. You feel stuck. Like you’re standing still while others are sprinting ahead. Everyone around you has a “life update” and you’re like, “Um… I bought a candle?” It’s a mindfuck: you crave stability, but when you finally get it, it feels like you’re behind. You’re frozen in a place where growth feels impossible, and every day blends into the next.
Ridiculously busy, but somehow still lonely
Your calendar is a nightmare. You need to book a “quick drink” with a friend two months in advance, reschedule it three times and still feel guilty when you cancel last minute because you’re working late.
Getting older doesn’t just mean aging. It means juggling a million things at once: work deadlines, gyno appointments, eyebrow waxing, therapy sessions, “self-care” rituals… the list goes on. Sometimes it feels like you’re just running to run, stuck in a loop of exhaustion with no pause button.
Everyone’s out for themselves
The group mentality of your early 20s fades fast. Suddenly, people aren’t moving as a group — they’re choosing themselves. And honestly? They should. That’s growth. Everyone’s doing what they need to do to protect their peace, chase their goals or just survive — and while it’s not selfish, it can still sting. You know it’s not personal... but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like it is.
Major identity crisis
You’re no longer the party girl downing tequila sodas at Hair of the Dog, but you’re also not meal-prepping and going to bed at 9 p.m. after meditating to rain sounds. You’re somewhere in the in-between — too old for the chaos, too young for the calm. You don’t know where you fit in or even who you are anymore. It’s an identity crisis disguised as adulthood, and TBH? It’s exhausting.
Independent... but still low-key co-dependent
You may pay your own rent (a portion), take your vitamins (sometimes) and file your own taxes (with the help of your parents). But you still FaceTime your mom when the toilet won’t stop running or when you can’t get a red sauce stain out of your favorite white tee. You’re technically a fully functioning adult, but emotionally? One Trader Joe’s frozen meal from a Menty B.
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