'Please stop telling me these are the best years of my life. Sincerely, a 19-year-old.'

I'm 19, and I've been told more times than I can count that these are supposed to be "the best years of my life".

That I should be out having fun, being carefree, living it up while I'm young before the "real" responsibilities kick in.

But here's the truth: I'm tired.

Not just "I stayed up too late last night" tired, but soul-tired and a bit paralysed. Mentally, emotionally, physically burnt out. And when people say this is as good as it gets, it doesn't make me feel grateful. It makes me feel terrified. Because if this is it… then what comes next?

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I don't think older generations really understand what it's like to be young right now.

We're growing up in a world that feels constantly on fire. A climate crisis, a housing crisis, financial stress, mental health struggles, a job market that's impossible to enter, and the constant pressure to make something of ourselves before we've even figured out who we are.

Since year seven, I've been pressured into choosing subjects that will dictate my future and I cannot explain the amount of stress that was put on getting a good enough ATAR to make sure you can get into university. And it was roughly around here that I first began to break out of this institutionalised system and tread my own path (see article about dropping out of school).

At this age, we're supposed to be thriving, travelling, studying, finding our passion, building our lives. But many of us are just trying to stay afloat.

We're smiling in photos on social media and crying behind closed doors. We're saying "I'm fine" and meaning "I have no idea who I am." We're burnt out before we've even begun.

For me, there's also the added layer of being autistic. And maybe that's why I've never related to the idea of these years being the best. Because so much of my energy goes into just existing and masking. But I don't think it is only us neurodivergents who are finding themselves in a not-even-quarter-life crisis.

The idea that I'm supposed to be carefree right now, going to festivals, staying out all night, partying with friends doesn't just feel wrong, it feels alien. But isn't this stuff supposed to be enjoyable? And yet when I choose to rest or pull back or say no, I feel like I'm wasting some mythical golden age I'll never get back. God forbid, I want to enjoy the simple things, like going for a walk or having a slow weekend doing a puzzle. I know I sound like a granny and should wait to do this stuff when I'm old and tired, but truthfully, I am already tired now.

19-year-old Zoe Watson shares her thoughts on having the 'best years' of her life. Image: Supplied.

I think people mean well when they say it, like they are trying to encourage us to enjoy life.

But when you're struggling with your identity, your mental health, your direction, hearing that this is as good as it gets feels more like a gut-punch than a pep talk.

It silences us and makes us feel like we can't say "I'm not okay" because we should be.

And it puts this weird pressure on us to perform happiness, instead of figuring out who we are at our own pace.

So if you're a parent reading this, or a teacher, or just someone who loves a young person, please stop saying it.

We don't need your nostalgia, we need your understanding. We need you to hold space for the fact that maybe, for some of us, the best years of our lives haven't happened yet.

And maybe they won't look anything like yours. Because right now? We don't need to be told to live it up. We need to be told it's okay to slow down. It's okay to not have it all figured out. It's okay to not be okay.

We're not wasting our youth — we're surviving it.

And that alone is something worth being proud of.

Read more from Zoe:

• 'After 48 hours in my city job I was broken. But not for the reason you think.'

• 'I was once where your child sat.' A letter to parents battling with school refusal.

• 'I'm addicted to the thing which is killing me.' I am a teenager and I wish I never got a phone.

Feature image: Supplied.