I recently celebrated my eighteenth birthday, and I have some thoughts.
I’ve always found it interesting how life goes at the pace of a tortoise, until those times like Christmas or New Year’s Eve or birthdays come and we stop and think about the previous year. Then, we all talk about how quickly the time has gone, and how it seems that with every single blink time lurches ahead and we find ourselves to be older–although maybe not any wiser–and still trying to navigate the world as we know it.
Last year around this time, I felt incredibly anxious about turning seventeen. It seemed like time was shooting forward whether I liked it or not, and that before I knew it I was going to find myself as a clueless kid trapped in Adult Life in the Real World.
This year, however, I’m actually kind of excited to be another year older. It means being a little closer to independence (if only in a legal sense). It means graduating in three months, maybe being able to find a job, going to my first college classes, and actually starting a real life. Sure, turning eighteen means the end of the only phase of life I’ve ever known, but the road that lies ahead of me doesn’t look so scary anymore.
Thanks for reading.