lost in a reflection of youth: who am I in my 20s?

After endless minutes of staring at my dripping wet naked body in the mirror, I thought to myself, how did I get here? I wished I was someone else. I don’t mean the forceful media body positivity of only skinny and fashionable models. I don’t even mean somebody that I would personally find desirable. I want to be who I was two years ago, when I felt and looked thin. So thin, my once size 4 jeans from high school were baggy on me. The type of thin that someone pointing out the dark circles under my eyes were a compliment. But, two years ago, I wished I was someone else, I wished I was two years younger. The obsession I have with myself as I scroll over pictures from when I was freshly eighteen, I began to look and feel like the girls I desired to be when I was 14. Somebody achievable. Somebody who I once was. When I was lifeless, and longing, when I lost my innocence. When I was pale and struggling. Now at 21, I feel of life, with desired meat on my bones, barely fitting a size 6, rosy lips and cheeks. My skin glowing, someone who is regaining that innocence. But, innocence only looks good on a child and rebellion only looks good on a teenager. So what am I supposed to be? Am I at the ripe age of where I reached the boredom of my livelihood? If I’m not a party girl or I don’t yet have a career, am I somebody at all? I began to descend, I chose a quiet life. When you get older, you pride yourself on the years of knowledge you gained, somehow your personal experiences have given you intelligence, but with that there is also an ordeal of negligence. Your experience of intelligence is an open door to the confidence that you know more than the next person because you’ve lived it, if you're over the age of 40, your experiences are valid but if you are educated in a precise topic and happen to be under the age of 30 you are a fool. A fool to have been so open, negligent to your experiences and to others for your experiences. There is no world in which admiration truly comes with intelligence if you are still young or a woman. Who am I supposed to be in my 20s? What am I supposed to be? Too young to be a mother, too old to be living with my parents. Not old enough to be considered for qualified careers, but too old for a part time pay. Where do I stand on the shoulders of society? Who takes me in? I wish to be who I was two years ago because at least back then I was foolish enough to believe I knew who I was.