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A Letter to My Fairer Years — 0xBobatea

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Things fell apart on my 21st birthday. Now I am become man, destroyer of pie. And, as is the case with young men of vanity of person and of situation, I find adulthood to be very much in bad taste. My whole life I have struggled with mediocrity with varying degrees of success. I have no doubt become a finely-packaged bachelor if one were not to look too closely at the label. I had earned an agreeable following through my work, sweated away fifty pounds, conquered a voguish depression, and made and lost great fortunes worthy of gilded age gossip. Yet now, on this 17th of June, the eve of my birthday, I lie awake, suffering from some quarter-life crisis that refuses to be washed away by youthful exuberance before the coming of midnight.

Things fell apart on my 21st birthday. Now I am become man, destroyer of pie. And, as is the case with young men of vanity of person and of situation, I find adulthood to be very much in bad taste. My whole life I have struggled with mediocrity with varying degrees of success. I have no doubt become a finely-packaged bachelor if one were not to look too closely at the label. I had earned an agreeable following through my work, sweated away fifty pounds, conquered a voguish depression, and made and lost great fortunes worthy of gilded age gossip. Yet now, on this 17th of June, the eve of my bir

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