Every night before I go to bed, I check my countdown app on my iPhone. I know that every day it's going to be one day less than it was the night before, but I can't help myself. It's my nightly habit and I like it. Many of my countdowns have come and gone, but there's a new one that's almost down for the count: my 18th birthday.
Lately, before I've fallen asleep, I have had exestential crises about my age. 17. How am I almost 18? How am I almost a legal adult? Am I gonna vote? Do I want to let go of my 17th year? Am I ready to let go of my 17th year? Will 18 be as good? I don't know if I'm ready, despite the fact that I know that I'm ready. Does that make sense? I don't think so. It has kept me up for two hours each night. Two hours of precious sleep lost to worrying.
All I can think about is how I'm getting older. I know, I know. I shouldn't be worrying about getting older at the age of 18. But do you realize that 10 years ago, I was 8. That is insane. Look at how big I am now! How is it that 1. 10 years has passed in my life in the blink of an eye 2. I've grown in size, intelligence, and maturity. I mean yes, it's 10 years, but to me it does not seem that long ago. My friend Flora calls us all giant babies. We are all giant babies walking around and living our lives. I do somewhat agree with her... There are times that I feel so young, I just don't know how I'm doing or what I'm doing. I also still heavily depend on my mother. Exetential crisis.
So here I am almost a week out and I've been reflecting on my 17th year as a golden year. You know what I accomplished? A ton. You know how I feel about this year? Awesome. I'm proud of this year - being 17 was incredible. I put myself through a lot and made it through with no more than a scratch or two.
Comments