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The Great Pretender.


I sometimes feel like a fictional adult.

Actually, you'd better switch “sometimes” with “always”. It’s particularly evident when I pass someone on the street. It’s at times like this when I feel l'm just portraying the role of a normal, well-adjusted human being with a job and a family: the sort of person who has a mortgage (I've got one) and a pension (I'm out of my depth there) and who actively contributes to society, and not someone who owns two pairs of jeans and barely a pair of shoes and has no idea what PPI means.

The only thing that alleviates my worry slightly is the vague glimmer of hope that I’m not the only one; there must at least be a few people who feel the same as me. Surely? Maybe? Whatever the case, it doesn’t change the fact that a man approaching forty has been deemed an adult in every culture since the dawn of time. So why can’t I get my head around it?

I think it’s universal to not feel age deep down. People often say they don’t feel any older once they strip back the physical ailments that come with time. Well, they don’t say it like that, but the intention behind my clunky writing is valid; I bet proper adults don’t worry about their phraseology as much as I do. It would just be nice to feel like a real person from time to time: does anywhere give lessons?

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