Breakfast Babble is ED’s own little space on the interwebs where we gather to discuss ideas and get pumped up (or not) for the day. We judge things too. Sometimes. Always. Whatever, call it catharsis and join in, people.
Let me paint you a picture: every morning, I wake up with the energy of a sloth forced into a Zumba class. The alarm rings, and I hit snooze exactly 17 times because, apparently, my adulthood comes with serious negotiations with the clock. Somewhere between the 17th snooze and sheer guilt, I convince myself to roll out of bed and face the world, pretending to be a functional adult.
Here’s how I pulled off this grand performance, and trust me, it’s worthy of an Oscar.
Kids get milk and Bournvita; I get a caffeine IV. I sit with my cup, staring into the abyss, which I also call my life, trying to decide if I can manage to be an adult today. If kids miss their milk, they just sulk a little. If I miss my coffee, I might accidentally tell my boss the real reason I missed the deadline.
Kids wear whatever they like—a Spiderman T-shirt, mismatched socks, and Crocs. Nobody bats an eyelid. I, on the other hand, have to pick something “smart casual.” This means wasting 20 minutes debating if I can get away with jeans and pretending I know what “business formals” even mean. My inner child just wants to wear pyjamas and tell society to chill.
Remember the days when five rupees could buy a whole bunch of happiness in the form of orange candy? Now, my adult life revolves around budgeting for rent, groceries, and the occasional existential crisis. Do I understand mutual funds? Absolutely not. Do I nod at the banker as if I do? Always. Kids get pocket money and can spend it all on Pokémon cards without guilt. Meanwhile, I spend half an hour deciding if I can afford the fancy ₹30 biscuit over Parle-G.
Let’s talk about small chit-chat—something that kids avoid entirely by running straight to the point: “Can I borrow your red crayon?” Adults, however, engage in a series of awkward “Hellos” and weather updates. Honestly, if I could talk about dinosaurs or space rockets like kids do, life would be simpler. Instead, I nod along to discussions about rising petrol prices and the neighbour’s WhatsApp university conspiracy theories.
Read More: Breakfast Babble: Why Every Sunday I Become a Whole New Person
Kids get homework, and they throw tantrums. Adults get taxes, utility bills, and doctor appointments, and we can’t throw tantrums.
Kids have backup plans. If life gets too hard, they scream until someone gives them ice cream. Adults scream into pillows and scroll through therapy memes. Kids believe the world is their oyster, while adults believe the oyster is overpriced and served with service tax.
Every day, I act like I’ve got this adulthood thing figured out, but deep down, I’m still that kid who thinks life would be better with candy for dinner and no alarms in the morning. Until society lets me be that kid again, I’ll keep pretending, one coffee, one awkward adult conversation, and one panic attack over my electricity bill at a time.
Sources: Bloggers’ own opinion
This post is tagged under: adulting struggles, indian adulthood, relatable humor, adulting in india, relatable adulting, life of an adult, pretending to adult, adulting hacks, why kids are better, adulting is hard
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