The twenty crisis
If asked to describe myself, “independent” would be one of the first words to emerge. But for anyone who knows me well around, you may hear a feigned cough, disguising a subtle and obvious “stubbornly snobish remark “. I consider myself kind and intelligent, yet I pride myself in my free-thinking and ability to take care of myself. With all I know and all I’ve discovered, I’ve barely scratched the surface. I know this. Yet the mind often has a difficult time accepting this fact. Though I pay to fuel up my car, the vehicle technically belongs to me parents; I may pay for my own groceries, but they’re stored in the refrigerator within my parents’ home; I regularly share my musings on this blog, but they’re little more than the regurgitation and synthesis of others’ ideas; although I enjoy solitude, I rely on my family and friends for companionship and support. In light of these things, can I really call myself independent? Well suddenly I have had a sudden thunder
