18

Upon realizing that I am less than 24 hours from turning 18, it has come to my attention that I am in no possession of a bikini and must go purchase one. Asap.

LOLOLOL I KEED. =))

Bikini or not, I’m turning 18. EIGHTEEN. Tomorrow. In a few hours. The clock ticks. And I’m nervous as fuck.

I have no idea why. Maybe it’s the pressure and responsibilities that come with “coming of age”? Or that I can no longer claim to be a kid so I can get away with half the stupid things I do? I tell myself that it’s just a number...and that it won’t matter. No matter how old I am, I’m still me, right?

Psh, of course not. Sure in the literal sense, I AM still me. But this time, I’m faced with challenges that come with being a “young adult,” and I don’t even have a choice whether to face them or not. You know, like, making something out of myself and becoming a responsible member of society. Of course, it’s not like I want to grow old as a miserable drunkard, have forty cats and scare little children. What I mean is, this time I can’t stay on the fence. I have to decide whether to be a kid or be an adult. To be honest, being a “young adult” just makes it more confusing, really. (Young and adult isn’t the best combination for a development stage.)

The point is (suddenly I can’t even write coherently): CHANGES HAVE TO BE MADE. And so much CHANGE has happened in my life – from moving away to another country and going back one educational level – that I’m resisting change as much as possible. I feel like a bottle of soda. The more you shake the bottle, the more it gets all fizzed up inside and then eventually: explosion. I don’t want that to happen to me.

The funny (frustrating) thing about time is that I can’t go against it, so I’m basically gonna explode anyway. It’s not a tangible force. I can’t exert an opposite force against it just so it can change. Time has existed since FOREVER and everyone’s had to deal with it. People died in the hands of time... so just a year older isn't supposed to matter, right? And yet here I am, panicking at the mere prospect of turning 18. WHY???

Does this mean that I’m so caught up in the past that I don’t even want to grow up? God, that’s wrong. That is SO wrong. What’s even wrong-er is it could be true. Now that I think about it, being 17 was the best time of my life. Gaaaad, I want to be 17 forever.

I must mentally prepare myself for what will come. Whether I like it or not, I am turning 18, dammit, and I will LIKE it. I WILL RELISH IT. I WILL ENJOY AND MOVE ON.

Or at least, I’ll try.

Oh, and I'm seriously gonna go get a bikini. Just for the heck of it.