So here I am, staring down 32 like it's some kind of existential math problem I never studied for.
Let's talk about Europe for a second. I've noticed something bizarre since moving here: people who look my age (or older) often behave like they're waiting for their parents to pick them up from school activities. Meanwhile, I'm over here looking 22 but mentally calculating my five-year-old daughter's future education costs while picking her up from kindergarten.
It's a strange cultural inversion—Europeans with visible signs of aging discussing weekend raves while looking like they should be discussing mortgage rates. Of course, I fully understand that the life expectancy in Europe is significantly higher than in Mozambique, which naturally leads people to organize their lives differently and extend certain phases of life. The timeline is objectively different. But knowing this rationally doesn't stop me from noticing these differences and occasionally complaining about them like any normal person would. It's this weird cognitive dissonance where my logical brain understands the demographic reasons while my emotional brain is still processing the cultural shock.
Here's where it gets complicated. By Mozambican standards, I'm firmly in adult territory—especially as a father. Responsibility isn't optional when small humans depend on you. I've got the dad reflexes, the ability to function on minimal sleep, and the constant switching between being my five-year-old daughter's best friend one minute and her worst enemy the next—enforcing bedtime or saying no to that fifth snack request. I've mastered this strange parental duality that feels both natural and surreal.
But internally? Part of me still wants to stay up until 3 AM vibing with my computer, flowing with technology and exploring concepts that most people would find mind-numbing. My idea of a perfect Friday night isn't hitting a club—it's the quiet thrill of getting into a flow state with tech while the rest of the world sleeps. And I still get that same rush of excitement that thrilled 19-year-old me when I finally vibe with a solution I've been working on for hours.
The real mindbender comes when trying to socialize. In one setting, I'm nodding seriously about educational philosophies with other parents. In another, I'm the "old guy" among twenty-somethings who can't believe I remember life before smartphones. And in European contexts, I'm sometimes the "young-looking but oddly mature one" among people who are technically my age but operating on a completely different timeline.
It's like playing a cultural age game where the rules keep changing, and someone constantly redraws the boundaries. So where does this leave me? Somewhere in the weird overlap of a Venn diagram where "physically looks 22," "mentally feels 35," "emotionally experiences 17," and "has responsibilities of 45" all collide.
I'm a dad who still loves adventure. A young face with old soul moments. A responsible adult who occasionally needs to spend all night vibing with tech puzzles that only make sense to me. And maybe that complexity isn't something to "reconcile" but something to celebrate. After all, isn't the whole point of growing up figuring out that the boxes we try to put ourselves in were imaginary all along?
So here's to 32—whatever the hell that means.
