At the gym, when a treadmill asks me for my age, it feels odd entering "3-0."
Physically, I feel 30 — I use a standing desk, and for some reason, my hands go numb when I shower nowadays — but otherwise, it's like I'm pretending to be 30.
I work in Manhattan, but sleep every night on a couch in someone's living room.
At bars, I humour people with alcoholic beverages, but would rather be drinking pop or fruit juice.
I get by. I'm generally content. And yet, I feel like I'm doing it — life — wrong. I'm not building anything. I'm just…stumbling through.
I'm probably fucked in the future, but, as I'm not sure what the point of life is, if I die tragically, so be it. [shrugs]
"Here lies Jon Yu. He was alive at one time."
I wonder if I'll be this existential when I turn 30.
I'll be 30 in December. I feel the same. I see other adults and I just don't relate to them at all. I have a grown up life with a job and a house and a wife and a kid and I pretty much still feel like an 18-year-old. I don't have interest in things grown ups should. I don't drink, I listen to punk rock, and I watch wrestling and I'm happy with that. If I were to find out I were dying, of course I'd be upset about not doing fatherly things with my son, but I'd also be upset about all the movies I really want to see that I'll never be able to. Getting old is weird.