I am 21 years old and about to embark on my penultimate term in my final year at Cambridge. I am pretty certain this should feel like some sort of a landmark point in my life where big things happen and grand decisions are made. But nothing has happened since turning 21 that has transformed me into an adult. I’m not considering adopting a child or driving a lorry any time soon. Despite being allowed to drive since age 17, I’ve still not passed my test. The age limit on drinking hardly stopped anyone sneakily drinking Glen’s vodka years before they were 18. Nor did turning 16 inspire me to get married.

And so nothing is different but, to reconfigure the philosophical musings of the modernprophet, Kylie Jenner: 21 for me has more been the age of realising things than it has been about becoming an adult. Or it’s the year of realising that becoming an adult does not actually change anything about you at all. And I’m OK with that.

In short, I was probably a better adult when I was 11; I only knew of about seven jobs in the world, which made picking a career much easier, and I hadn’t yet been led astray by the power of wine. The Holy Grail of a ‘healthy sleeping pattern’ will probably still mystify me for decades to come. I hate Tinder and yet I still cannot bring myself to delete the app from my phone, largely due to a sadistic part of myself (one that I am ashamed of) that enjoys rejecting men for the thrill of it. After a few weeks of brilliant budgeting I reward myself with a shopping trip that sends me flying close to my overdraft. I leave it till the last possible moment to do my laundry, and I rarely wash out my coffee mug under the false pretense that it cleans itself because ‘black coffee is basically just murky water.’ But even if continually messing up and picking myself back up again like a human Flappy Bird is the face of adulthood in my twenties, then I don’t really mind too much.

But it does feel like there is a rush to ensure a smooth transition from university into the adult world, especially when you remember that, at age 20, Bill Gates had dropped out of Harvard and co-founded Microsoft. Adele had already released 19 and had just begun writing 21 when she was my age. Or Stevie Wonder was signed by Motown when he was just 10, while Mozart’s operas were already being performed professionally when he was 14. At 16 years old, Malala Yousafzai received a Nobel Peace Prize nomination. In stark contrast, when l was 16, I was awarded my Silver DofE. Zadie Smith finished writing White Teeth during her final year of studying English at Cambridge – a degree she received a First in. My goal for the end of this year is just to leave Cambridge with my sanity vaguely intact.

“At 16 years old, Malala Yousafzi received a Nobel Peace Prize nomination. In stark contrast when l was 16, I was awarded my Silver DofE.”

And where do I go after this place? The current plan is a Master’s course – partially because I am not sure if I can function outside of academia but also because I do love my subject. I am idealistically hopeful that I will naturally gravitate towards my dream career through postgraduate study. Taking into consideration that I am the sort of person who cannot even pick the sandwich I want in a meal deal, I do not think it is sensible for me to rush things and apply for a graduate scheme. It’s hard to assess the situation rationally when it feels like there is an expectation that we are all meant to subscribe to a similar idea of success and thus follow a similar path. When you ignore what Adele and Bill Gates were doing at this age, 21 is still super young and there is a juicy 44 years of work ahead of us. That accommodates time for failure, change, and diversions.

New year, not so new me

Most of all, I’ve been in a competitive educational environment for pretty much my whole life, and I need the time away from it to shake off bad habits and take things at a slower pace. When I graduate from Cambridge, I will finally have some time to work on myself holistically rather than academically. I want to spend some time learning about self-care, establishing a foolproof skincare routine, and watching those TV shows I never got round to seeing. I’d love to travel more and have a go at properly learning a language or two. There’ll be time to take more baths, go on long walks, or to write and draw for fun. I’ll actually be able to devote proper time for friends away from all the stress and essay deadlines. I’ll learn the best way to respond to people when they say something that upsets me and when it’s better for my health to ignore them. There’s time for learning to enjoy my own company. If our twenties are about finding our feet in the world, then they are just as much about working on our happiness levels as they are about finding a job that pays £50k a year