Every day, my soul screams: “OMFG I WANT FUN.”
I need structure to thrive, but the moment that structure hardens into a predictable routine, I feel a deep, stomach-wrenching sickness—the kind that seeps into my bones, making me want to fling myself into the most reckless, dopamine-chasing choices just to feel alive again.
Five years ago, in one of those impulsive waves, I started this blog—just a reckless little brain dump, an unfiltered attempt to document my 20s. The idea of keeping it up for a decade felt ridiculously far-fetching back then. I had a track record of short-lived passions, so I figured, let’s see if it actually goes anywhere. And now? Somehow, I’m halfway through the decade.
I am halfway through my 20s. What the actual hell.
The Highs, The Lows, and The Impulsive Detours
Thrill-seeking is exhausting. The worst kind of frustration is craving stimulation but being too burnt out to create it. In the last five years, I’ve acted on impulse more times than I can count—sometimes for the better, sometimes for absolute chaos.
But that chaos? It got me into a top med school in Beijing. It gave me some of the most unparalleled, laugh-till-I-cry, scream-into-the-night memories of my life. It even gave me this five-year-old blog that somehow still exists (I know, what the actual fuck?). It has shaped me in ways I never could’ve planned.
But uncontrolled chaos gets old, too. The kind that comes from running away, from grasping at the next exciting thing just to avoid the discomfort of stillness. I used to be consumed by those big, existential questions—so lost in my quarter-life crisis that I wanted to scream “FUCK” every second. It was dark, suffocating. The kind of restless searching that wasn’t about discovery, but about escaping.
Now? I still get restless. I still get bored. But I can sit with it.
I can say, “I am so fucking bored,” but instead of spiraling, I twerk it into something new—without breaking the structure I actually need.
The Beauty of a Bottomless Curiosity
Right before reaching 24, I’ve accepted that I will never be satisfied—and that’s not a bad thing.
The world is still big enough for my chaos, my endless curiosity, my craving for novelty. I still get frustrated that I’m basically a grumpy, hyperactive kid trapped in an adult body, constantly demanding new stimuli. But, honestly? In such a big world I’m living in, I’m grateful.
Because what a tragedy it would be—to wake up one day and realize I’d lost my ability to be fascinated.
I can’t change how I’m wired. But I can control my impulsivity, create my own chaos in a way that doesn’t self-destruct. Growing up hasn’t stolen anything from me. My annoying, unpredictable, thrill-seeking core is still here—louder than ever, just better managed.
Proudly 24, Proudly Still a Work in Progress
In a month, I turn 24.
And I can say—without hesitation, without doubt—I am proud of myself.
For the chaos I’ve embraced.
For the chaos I’ve learned to control.
For still being the person I’ve always been, just a version that’s learning how to harness her own wildfire.
Here’s to the second half of my 20s. Let’s see what reckless, intentional, beautiful mess comes next.
19til29 