Pretending to be an Adult

Last night I said to my roommate the following sentence: "Man, I have so many errands to run and I owe so many people money. Is this what being an adult feels like?"
And with that it hit me: I am an adult. I work a job from 8-5 everyday, I have insurance payments and bills, and by just about every other standard of adulthood (with the exception of perhaps the most obvious, being the head of a family) I am firmly entrenched in that quite odd phenomenon of post-adolescence. Although, I am only 25 and it does not always feel like I am an adult. By this I mean that although I am one by external measures, I think that the measure that is perhaps simultaneously neglected and utterly necessary is that of the process of becoming an adult. That is something that you cannot cheat-you cannot really wake up one day and realize that you have struggled and given advice and felt deep pain and exuberant joy and been controlled by rage and fitted with logic, that you have made difficult decisions and wrestled with the moral consequences of your actions. These and more are intricate parts of becoming an adult, and I think that without this struggle, part of it is lost. In other words, an essential part of adulthood is the process of becoming an adult.
So, when I say that sometimes I feel like I am merely pretending to be an adult, like somehow I was able to sneak into the club without anybody noticing in and nobody has kicked me out yet. It is a difficult feeling to explain. One day you feel like a teenager, able to rage all night and make late-night taco bell runs (not that there is a single thing wrong with those) and seemingly the next day you are going to sleep at 9:30 looking at adolescence in the rear-view mirror. Adulthood is ill-defined in our current culture leading a friend of mine recently to comment to me that he is tired of being a 'kadult'. And maybe it is that word that best describes the way that I feel-trying to understand who I am and merely directing my own trajectory in the right direction and hoping that I come out of it resembling that great men that I grew up admiring.
But I know that I am not there yet; the 'k' is still at the front of that word and as old and even at times out-dated I often feel, I do not have wrinkles or grey hair. I have not experienced the loss of a child, there are still many markers that point to the underside of adulthood for me. So, it often does feel like I am cheating. I guess that that is a part of learning how to drop the 'k'. Becoming not my parents, but hopefully greater, not privy to the same mistakes. Mistakes are a part of who I am, and necessarily so. I cannot cheat.
Sometimes it feels like I am pretending to be an adult. But the process is part of the man.