Have you noticed something strange about people who hit the big 4-0? Especially if they’re even remotely connected to media or creativity? (well.. Including.. Yours Truly!)
Suddenly, they all start talking. Not just talking, preaching, teaching, vlogging, blogging, Reeling, Tweeting, and occasionally posting deep monologues with dramatic music playing in the background.
It’s like a universal itch: you hit 40 and bam! You feel a strong inner urge to say things. About life. Money. Mistakes. Decisions. Parenting. Love. Sambar proportions. Everything.
And no, it’s not because we’ve cracked some great code of the universe. We’re not sitting atop Himalayan peaks meditating next to a wireless router. Nope. This whole urge to “give advice” is, in reality, a love letter to our younger selves. A deeply personal monologue disguised as public content.
Think about it: we can’t go back in time and sit down with our clueless, overconfident, break-up-crying, energy-drink-chugging 20-year-old selves. So what do we do instead? We put out Instagram reels titled “10 Things I Wish I Knew at 25” and pretend someone out there is listening. But honestly? We’re the ones listening.
It’s beautiful, really.
We’re not correcting the world. We’re trying to correct our own memory. We’re not changing the past. We’re just making peace with it.
Now here’s the hilarious part: that 20-year-old you’re advising today? Yeah, they’re not gonna listen. Because their bodies are on a totally different firmware. Their hormones are doing Zumba, their egos are on protein shakes, and their brains still think heartbreaks are the end of the world. You tell them “delayed gratification,” and they’ll swipe up to a reel with neon text screaming “YOLO!”
And that’s okay.
Because even if they don’t listen, you did. You learned. You lived. You made a full buffet of bad decisions. You seasoned it with regret, served it with tears, and finally learned how to cook it right.
So keep talking. Keep writing. Keep sharing your truths—not because it’ll change someone else’s path—but because it validates your own.
And hopefully, if we keep doing the things that truly matter to us—the right things, the fulfilling things, the memory-worthy things—maybe 15 years from now, we’ll look back with nothing left to advise… just stories to relive, and memories to smile about.
And that, my friend, is a legacy worth leaving.
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