The charmingly boyish man who refuses to grow up will age just the same as the men who have careers, mortgages and families. He will grow older too, but with much less in his life. Peter Pan at 60 isn't nearly as adorable as at 20.
Every good thing you can imagine happening in the world -- from the eradication of hunger to the end of Citizens United -- will happen sooner if each one of us takes responsibility for ourselves, and from there, reaches out to serve others.
By the end of the summer of 2012, I was 28 years old, and the closest thing I'd ever had to a steady job was working as a fetish escort. I refused to move out of the house I grew up in. I hadn't managed to keep a single relationship (friendship or otherwise) that hadn't fizzled.
Is it possible that, as we identified ourselves as a group, we have limited our growth? Are we in the enviable position of not being held accountable for becoming "adults," given our collective abolishment from the mainstream?