When Are The Golden Years?

What’s better: to be a crazy 20 year old, or to be a relaxed 70 year old?

I had a decision to make: spend my savings on travel or contribute towards my crippling american debt.

I am worth a total of about $10,000. I have alternative student loans totaling about $35,000, $2,800 of which is interest, and additional Federal Loans that come to about $15,000.

I have two savings accounts. Both are stock-aligned, and one is a Retirement Fund. My stock account has more than the Retirement fund, but both of them combined reach about $7,000. I have some hidden cryptocurrency (don’t get excited, not much) and a few hidden stocks in my CashApp.

And that’s it. I realize it may be more, or less, than some other people. I’ve been thinking a lot about how important money is, and how deeply it shapes our lives. I have intense privilege to be able to save for my retirement at twenty-one, and yet I am surrounded by people who will graduate with no student debt.

It’s a strange system, in a way. The methodology works like this: everyone would like to follow their dreams. Those who get to actualize that dream lifestyle are often the ones closest to it already. They have successful parents, benefit from nepotism, or ride on the coattails of generational wealth. They have freedom to be creative, and be that crazy twenty-something that tries something radical, because there will always be money to fall back on.

But what if there isn’t money to fall back on? It becomes the obligation of the rest of us to be responsible. We must work through our youth, settling into savings, and restrain ourselves in case a family member might require us for help. If fate were speaking, it would say that we were destined to be the working forever. And thus the cycle continues.

I’ve seen a lot of my friends claw for a way out. They try DropShipping (Alibaba), Day Trading (RobinHood), and Multi-Level Marketing (Arbonne or Forex) that are the equivalent of slot machines.

The truth is, I feel this intense pressure to treat life like a feral cat; the only way through is by treading safely around it.

All of this, mind you, so I can defer my true crazy dreams until I am seventy years old, which, by then, I will have forgotten why I was so angry and passionate in the first place.

So, which is better: to be a reckless young person, or a responsible old one? And what would future-me answer to the same question?