The Lies about Age

"Wow, you are so young!"

I’m 24 this year. I don’t lie about my age, but others do. They lie about their own, sure, but they lie about mine too. It’s the same comforting fiction they’ve been telling me since before I turned 18.

The age gap in my current project team is wide. The second youngest is 29, and the median age is 31. In that room, I’m the outlier—inexperienced, lacking confidence, and definitely the most incompetent person at the table.

Everytime I reveal my age, I get people saying I am young. I suppose I look older (heh). And since I’ve always preferred the company of people much older than me, I do feel young in general.

Until I force myself to snap out of it.

I suppose I will continue to receive this comment until the day I don't. Then, I’ll be faced with the reality of no longer being "young".

Before I turned 18, I was hopeful. I thought I was on the right track, prepared and free. Then, the I turned eighteen, and the honeymoon ended.

All those years of being told I was young had left me soft. Suddenly, I was standing in the middle of the world, forced to choose a degree and ultimately a life I would want to lead. But it wasn't just those heavy, existential choices—it was the crushing reality of everything else. It was eating cheaply just to get by, the quiet panic over the tuition fee every semester, and the sudden, exhausting weight of real responsibilities—trying to navigate adult struggles when I barely knew how to be an adult.

Fast forward to now, and nothing has changed. The constant reassurance is a nice bandage for my imposter syndrome, but it breeds a dangerous sense of security. One day, the compliments will simply stop. The safety net of being the youngest in the room will vanish, and suddenly, no one is there to shield you from your own incompetence. There is no transition period. You are just expected to have the answers.

Responsibilities force people to grow. That's the reason everyone would strive and prevail in the end despite all the lies. But there’s a catch: too much responsibility can kill your flexibility and freedom. If you spend all your energy just surviving the utmost priorities, your life starts to feel pale and worn out. Meeting responsibilities makes us members of society, but it’s the things we do out of passion and desire that make us different.

One of my bosses engraved this lesson in me:

"Go and fuck something up. Don't ask for permission, ask for forgiveness. Only after you make mistakes or break something do you know how to navigate the mess. Then you can share."

I figured that's how we gain experience and get wiser. Those who don't make the effort to try and make mistakes might age, but they don't grow.

That’s my current state of mind. When people tell me I’m young and should take it slow, I hear it as a countdown. If a tree takes years to grow, when is the time to clear the soil if not now? Before the profound responsibilities take over, I want to use this freedom to plant the kind of life I actually want to live in.

After all, it is better to be a stupid junior who asks a lot of dumb questions than to be a clueless senior who gives foolish answers.