A sign of immaturity in a person is the readiness to nobly die for a righteous cause, while a sign of maturity is the readiness to humbly live for a righteous cause.
© J.D. Salinger
Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I truly feel like an adult. Simply an adult.
And everything has become very simple.
It happened in the middle of Love Song For A Vampire. Suddenly, I realized I had spent my whole life searching for the wrong things in love. I was always seeking Him—the one I described in detail, right down to the shape of his eyebrows and his tiny unconscious habits. I had dreamt about Him for so long, but it hit me: that vision was never the point. If I’m going to dream at all, let me dream of the right one. The Soul Mate. My person.
Yes, I’d thought about that before—but always layered it with endless conditions. He should have this, he shouldn’t have that. All of it… noise. The real thing is much quieter: it’s simply the readiness to know when it’s him. The right one for me. The one I’ll be happy with, and who’ll be happy with me. By default, that means he will be exactly what I need, even if he doesn’t fit the list I used to obsess over—the color, the size, the résumé of qualities.
I also realized something else: the love I’ve always felt this intense desire to express—I’ve spent my life saving it for only certain people. People I “liked.” But the truth is, love can be limitless. It can be expressed to anyone, in a thousand intelligent ways. I can buy Kenny a lottery ticket, just because it’ll make him happy. I can make Delaina her protein shake without asking, because she always asks anyway—why not just do it? I can let a fool pass on the road, or not interrupt someone at work. Those are all acts of love. It doesn’t matter who they are. These people just happen to be walking beside me right now.
I think part of this shift came from another realization: I’ve spent much of my life believing the world owed me something. My parents owed me more love and guidance. Men owed me sex and admiration. My bosses owed me recognition and higher pay. My friends owed me support, attention, involvement. Strangers owed me applause for my creativity and brilliance.
And I did get many of these things. I gave plenty in return too. But that belief—that anyone owed me anything at all—has created an enormous undercurrent of dissatisfaction. Because the truth is, we rarely receive exactly what we think we deserve. And that’s not where joy lives. The key to happiness is not in getting what you want. It’s in enjoying what you already have.
Now, looking at all this with clear eyes, I see how absurd those expectations were. Even a tiny portion of that list feels laughable to me now.
And with all these realizations, a strange calm has taken hold of me. I know this might sound funny, but yes—I still want to have sex. I still want all the beautiful things of being alive. But I no longer think the lack of those things is the fault of the “wrong” people around me. It’s just my body’s experience. Nothing more. It’s not personal.
Somehow, that makes life so much more peaceful. And at the same time, thrilling.
Because I finally feel free. And I think… I might just be happy.
