Quarter-Life Crisis in Nepal: A 24-Year-Old’s Silent Battle - DrkNes
By: DrkNes !
At 24, I thought I’d have it figured out. A decent job. A dream I’m chasing. Maybe a flat in Kathmandu or at least the promise of one. I imagined confidence in my voice when people asked, “So, what are you doing now?”
But instead, I sit here scrolling endlessly through social media, comparing my life to schoolmates now abroad, married, doing masters, running startups, or just looking happy. And me? I’m floating—between hope and confusion, dreams and doubts, Kathmandu dust and internet quotes that say “You are enough”.
Welcome to my existential crisis, age 24, Nepal edition.
The Weight of "By Aba Ta…"
In Nepal, especially in your twenties, expectations come not just from family—but from society, culture, relatives you barely know, and uncles who randomly ask, “Aba ta job lagcha hola ni?”
Every time someone says, “By 25 ta set hunuparcha ni,” I want to laugh and cry. Set? I can’t even decide if I want to go abroad or stay here. I want to sing, I want to start a YouTube channel, I want to help my parents, I want to save money, but I also want to run away to Mustang and just breathe.
No one told me that turning 24 feels like standing on a narrow bridge—everything shaky beneath you, and nowhere clear to go.
Chasing Dreams in a Country That Doesn’t Always Let You
We grew up being told to dream big. But dreaming big in Nepal comes with baggage.
Want to be a musician? “Thulo manche bannu parcha, not bhagyama lekhne.”
Want to be a writer? “Lekhera ghar chalcha?”
Want to do something different? “Ramro job khoj ”
What if I don’t want to just survive? What if I want to live? But then again, am I being selfish?
Stuck Between Two Worlds
One part of me is traditional: respectful, grateful, trying to be a “good son”. The other part wants to rebel, to travel, to work on my mental health, to say “no” without guilt.
I live in a house where we worship gods, but no one talks about depression.
Where silence is mistaken for peace.
Where pressure is hidden under “kei xaina yaar, sajilo xaina yo life.”
But I’m not lazy. I’m not lost. I’m searching.
And that’s what this crisis is—a search. For meaning. For freedom. For something real.
To Anyone Reading This
If you’re also 24. Or 22. Or 27. And you feel like you’re behind, like you’re not enough, like you’re drowning in questions—you’re not alone.
This “existential crisis” isn’t a failure. It’s a beginning.
You don’t need to have it all figured out.
You just need to take the next step—even if it's small.
Take a breath. Write that song. Apply for that job. Talk to someone. Cry if you need. Laugh if you can. But don’t numb yourself.
You are allowed to feel lost. That means you’re awake.
Final Thoughts
Maybe I don’t need to “set” my life at 24.
Maybe I just need to live it. Honestly. One step at a time. Even in the chaos of Kathmandu, or under the weight of family pressure, or during sleepless nights of self-doubt.
Maybe being 24 in Nepal isn’t about having answers.
Maybe it’s about learning how to ask better questions.
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