One day, you’re going to die—and that sucks. If you’re lucky, one day, you’re going to be old. To some, that sucks even more. In the young, the fear of aging instills a fervor and a passion, a drive to live as thoroughly and as successfully as humanly possible—before it’s too late! In the old, that same fear instills a pervasive regret. A million man-I-should-have’s, and a million more what-ifs. In some, perhaps most, it foments juvenoia—a hostility toward youth. This begs the question: why does fear of aging give us this brainrot?

Well, people are products of their environment, and, more specifically, the media in it. It’s not exactly controversial to say that media stars young people. Advertisements, movies, TV, and all the various forms of internet media alike have a suspicious focus on the youth and the youthful. It’s intriguing, really. Sure, 15-25 year olds make up a significant portion of the US population and are one of the biggest age groups, but they’re still a minority compared to the massive swathes of people who are outside that age group.

Is this because stories of the young are somehow more interesting, more engaging? That’s not outside the realm of possibility. Consider the fact that, in telling a story, a more experienced character is inherently less interesting—they have less room to grow! If you’re going for a standard “hero’s journey” model, and your protagonist can just skip half the steps, the audience will be snoring. Characters need room to grow, and the old and experienced have less room.

But there’s also another angle here. Young people are a common root. Everybody has some experience of being young, whether it be past or present. Not everybody has the experience of being some older person in some particular niche career or life experience.

Point being: people get specific as they age. As you get older, you become more and more specifically you. Your experience becomes less generic, and, by extension, more your own. While it’ll make you a terrible choice for the starring role in the next Hunger Games movie, it’s the furthest thing from a bad thing. People get niche, and that makes them interesting. The experienced are simply harder to pitch to a broader audience. A storied career man midway through retirement is harder to make interesting than some witty fresh-out-of-college chuckle-nut who’s brimming with potential. Since 15-25 year olds don’t have that specificity, they have the generality needed to be broadly appealing and relatable while also having the humanity needed to be a chracter. The old say “I was like them”, or “I could’ve been like them”. The young say “I’m like them” or “I could be like them”. The aforementioned retiree would be interesting dinner conversation, mostly because he has a lot of stories about his past—his youth—to tell.

The stories of the youth aren’t inherently more engaging, but youth remains fertile common ground for storytelling. When you meet an old friend after not seeing them in years, which do you relate about first: all the divergences that your lives have had since you last met, or the common ground? You might find connection in the events of the intervening years, but you won’t start with it.

It’s easy to feel like you’re running out of time when you’re young. By consequence, the longer you’ve been around, the more choices you have to reget. I often find myself wishing I’d started something earlier, or taken some different path. But if I found myself back in those beat-up Sperry’s sneakers that I wore in high school, I doubt I would actually choose anything different. I am who I am. I made the decisions I did by what made sense at the time. Retrospect is not your friend, and regret is a torture not worth wasting your time on. For better or for worse, we’ve made our beds, and we’ve got plenty of time before we have to lie in them.

Look at present you with the kindness of a mindful future you. It’s easy to pretend that you’re not doing your best, but the secret is this: you always are. There’s no other option. If your friend asks you to help them out, but you’re tired and do a sloppy job—you still did your best. Sometimes your best is a bad job, and that’s okay. Sometimes you won’t know how you should’ve done it until long into the future. That’s okay too.

There’s a lot more to be said here. I’d love to talk about the fetishization of youth in modern society, about juvenoia and the stupidity of the “kids these days!” mentality—which has been around as long as kids and days have. There’s a lot to be said about the beauty of being a fool. The master sees few possibilities, the fool sees many. There’s also a lot to be said about reasons behind a focus on youth. Is it biological, darwinistic? Is it something we can overcome? How are our concepts of attraction socially constructed? How do we reduce the neurotic obsession with youth? These are all riveting questions, but they deserve to be given their own attention—another time.

The takeaway here is this: the “hill”, as in, describing someone as being “over the hill”, is a lot further away than you think is. Aging isn’t so bad. Getting specific is cool, because your story only becomes more and more your own. Life is long, so don’t stress. Life is short, so get moving. You’ll get more and more specific, and one day, you’ll die.