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Thirty Sentences I Never Said Again After I Turned 30

The things you think when you start thinking of yourself as an "adult."
Illustration by Stephen Maurice Graham

All I need is a mattress on the floor and a wifi connection. And my bike. Also, I could use some cheap beer. Do you sell beer any cheaper than this?

All I want out of life is to spend time with my friends every day. And to be able to travel, to have enough free time to work on projects, to stay up-to-date on movies, books, and music, and to constantly be learning and bettering myself. I just want a Dilbert–type gig, something cubicle-based that gives me free time to focus on the creative stuff that's my actual work—you know, until I get some recognition and can quit the day job. I don't feel like I'm asking for too much.


Man I hope I get some recognition soon.

Nobody told me my new meds would react like that with alcohol. My feet are sore from dancing. The party was so awesome, I ended up talking to some weird hippie guy about philosophy for three hours. No, obviously I didn't drive afterwards. I don't know who drove. I don't know whose car that was.

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Should I start applying to grad schools? Should I learn Japanese? Should I have majored in something like petroleum science? Should I blow off tomorrow's job interview and go to Joshua Tree with you guys?

I'm not really thinking about where the relationship is going. I'm not sure I'm even a relationship person. I guess I can see myself just dating one person if we had some kind of supernatural, soul-to-soul connection. Kids are disgusting.

Sorry in advance about my place. I've been too depressed to clean. I quit taking those meds. I'm not sure I'll ever be society's definition of "happy." I'm not sure there's really such a thing as being "happy."

I can't even really imagine what I'll be like when I'm older than like 35.

To be honest, I don't even plan to live that long.

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