For years now I’ve carried the list with me. It rests comfortably in a place of honor on my corkboard, as it has in the six places I’ve lived since coming to college. The creases are deep in the ancient notebook paper, from years of unfolding, checking, and refolding. But they’ve had a long rest over the past two years. I bring the list from apartment to apartment, but recently it has been more of a symbol than anything.

There was a time when the list pushed me. It motivated me to seek new experiences, to find new adventures, and add color to the edges of my life. I expanded my horizons beyond the list, saying yes to opportunities just because the list was there. It was unique, my own. The filled pages represented the empty pages ahead in my life.

Lately, the list has only been a representation. I haven’t lived it, I’ve just been living with it. I could still say it was part of me, but it hasn’t been. Not really.

I’m not where I thought I would be at 24. It’s a reality I think a lot of people my age carry with them like a dark secret: are you saving the world like you had hoped? Are you trekking across Europe, or South America, like you just knew you would when you were younger? Are you having the adventures you wanted? Far better writers than myself have commented on the immense fear of missing out that my generation is experiencing. Whatever is happening in our lives, we see others’ photos on Facebook or Instagram, and we feel worse. I judge my mundane morning commute on the CTA against a friend’s cross-country trip to visit every national park. My mundane evening commute is compared to another friend’s year spent in southest Asia. I’m not where I thought I would be at 24. And I don’t just mean Chicago.

This feeling is not original, and it’s not new. I know that. I also know that, compared to many people, I do lead a fairly rich, colorful, and adventure-filled life. I travel all over the country every year. I hike, explore, and sleep in the back of my Subaru. I get to, and have gotten to, do things most people never will. I recognize that.

But that doesn’t change how I feel. I can lead a better life. I can take more chances and put more effort into exploring this city, this country, this world, and myself.

In 2012 while studying abroad, I described the real purpose of my list:

…mostly this list captures my philosophy in life: to seek the once-in-a-lifetime experiences and to relish them. Finding fulfillment by flirting with risk, and creating a life full of saturated moments. My life so far has taught me that you can live the safest, healthiest life, and misfortune will still find you — breast cancer, swing sets, brain disease, monster trucks, whatever: there’s no reason to shy away from the world because it will come to greet you regardless.

I’m not where I thought I would be. But no matter where I am, there are adventures to have. I have learned that once-in-a-lifetime experiences don’t have to be big: they can be climbing the sand dunes of Namibia, but they can also be sprinting down windy sand dunes inMichigan. They could be climbing a mountain, or they can be watching the sun rise fill the Nebraska plains with deep golden color as I drive. I can find my moments anywhere… I just have to try.