IMAGINE that you are a young child. Imagine that you are standing in the middle of a playground surrounded by dozens of your peers. The sun is beaming down on all of you, and each blade of grass quivers in the warmth of the day. You are all playing a game of ‘Tag’. Everyone seems to have adopted their own strategy to escape the touch of the child who is chasing them. Each failed attempt to catch an individual is punctuated by a scream or a peal of laughter. After what seems like ages of being overlooked, the child finally catches a glimpse of you. You are standing only a few feet away from him. A quick manoeuvre on his part could easily end the game. He turns to look at you, then lunges at you. Before you even have a chance to realise it, you’ve been caught—and a strange new responsibility has suddenly been thrust upon you. All of the eyes in the playground now turn to watch you. Tag, you’re it!

This strange but exciting feeling of being caught in a game of tag is often forgotten as we grow up and enter adulthood. Like many other childhood experiences and memories, this too is packed up in a box within our mind and stored away to be analysed or reminisced over at a later time. However, for members of a younger generation, this specific feeling of new responsibility finds them sooner than they expect. It finds them in the form of responsibility for a world that, so far, has been nothing more than a dollhouse to them—where their only role was to play and explore.

Yet, as we grow, we gradually realise that we are being tagged into a variety of new roles. Before we even have a chance to realise it, we have become responsible for caring for the people around us, for directing others, and for handling the motions of daily life that we had no need to think about when we were children. The ambitions that we had as children are no longer dreams but shoes that we are required to wear as we traverse adulthood. Even the mirror transforms to remind us of who we have become every morning. Of course, all of this is entirely terrifying.

So, when you wake up one day and realise that, just like that summer afternoon in the middle of the playground, everyone around is watching you and waiting for you to move—when you realise that you have stepped into a role that means your actions, your touch, can affect others and change the course of their days—how do you remember who you are? How do you stop yourself from becoming so overwhelmed that you are tempted to call out, “I quit!” and refuse to continue the game?

The simple answer is that you see, you strategise, and you share. Rather than simply choosing to start running with the burden of a new world on your shoulders, you stop, and see what others are doing. You see how they seem to be dealing with their new responsibilities, and you see how the people in your life are adjusting to you. Then, you strategise. With the knowledge you have gained from observing the world around you, make a plan for the most important goals that you would like to achieve. Start with a daily routine and build a plan for what you would like to accomplish in the next few years—not only for yourself but also for the people and the planet that now depend on you and your generation.

Finally, you must learn to share. Share your knowledge and your doubts. Share your struggles and your joys. Share your responsibilities and your opportunities. None of these things are meant to be a burden that is carried alone. Just like the game, tag someone else—not to carry your responsibilities for you, but to share them with you.

So, as the sun beams down upon you and the world unfolds in front of you like a warm, grassy field—how will you decide to change the game with your newfound role?