We always feel like we have all the time in the world, that moments and minutes will last a little longer than they do. Every older generation repeats the same sayings: “You’re never going to be this young again,” “You’re never going to have this time again, enjoy it.” I suppose they would know because they’ve lived it. But do we listen? Rarely. Is it a form of self-preservation, a way to avoid understanding the gravity and fragility of time?

From birth, the first 18 years are mapped out for you. Your name is chosen, followed by your clothes, schools, instruments, and college. Of course, there are pressures such as studying, familial issues, and choosing friends, but it’s a system with minimal choice. Though frustrating, it’s also relatively easy. Everyone your age moves through the same motions, stumbling through adolescence together, whether it’s exams, first kisses, or nights spent over drinking.

When my friends and I were finishing college, I was so fixated on the idea of being ‘free’ that I forgot to enjoy that part of my life, the ease of having everything decided for me. I was never the type to bury my head in books for hours. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do well; I just didn’t feel passionate about academic life.

I did fine in school, got the qualifications I needed, and was fixated on the idea of being an ‘adult’ and getting on with my life. But no one tells you that once you have complete free will, it can be debilitating. It’s like walking a straight line with everyone else, only to reach the end and find a spider’s web of paths, each leading somewhere different. How can you possibly choose when there are so many options?

Fifty years ago, the rest of your life was often decided for you by societal expectations and gender roles. You’d finish school, marry someone rather quickly that you met at a social function, and then either become a homemaking incubator or the breadwinner. There’s nothing wrong with wanting that today, but now we have more freedom to live as we wish.

The path you choose changes everything. It’s the butterfly effect; one small choice can shift everything. Whether it’s applying for a certain job, crossing the road or walking into a coffee shop on a rainy Tuesday at 12:46pm, any little thing can alter your path. If you think about it too long, it’ll make your head spin.

That brings me to my favourite poem from Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, starting with “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story,” with each beautifully ripe fig representing a different life choice. The poem then ends with, “I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t decide which fig I would choose.”

When I first read this, it hit me right in the gut. It perfectly describes that feeling of uncertainty when you’re the one now writing the rest of your story.

There’s a strange sense of comfort in not deciding, in still ‘figuring things out,’ or sticking with what feels familiar or expected. But the key is not to get too comfortable with something that isn’t meant for you. Not to keep trying to force two pieces of a puzzle together that just don’t fit. Not everyone will love their job, and that’s okay. Maybe for some, purpose and fulfilment come from hobbies, family, or love. I believe purpose plays a major part in defining happiness.

When you’re in your twenties especially, staring up at all those figs, it’s important to remember that only you can decide what’s right for you. There’s no rulebook, plan or one size fits all. At the end of the day, we’re all just walking each other home and figuring out how to enjoy the journey.

Maybe the answer is to dig your nails into the tree trunk, grab onto the flowing branches, and take a bite out of one of the figs. If it’s not right, try another. Each experience is what shapes you, making you fuller than if you’d only tasted the one.

I’m still figuring out how to climb the tree myself. I’m still deciding which fig is for me. But it’s better to fail than not to try at all. Surely it’s better to fall, bruise, and get back up than to starve.

S***, I think I’m a grown-up.