Eighteen. All my life I wanted to be different. I was different. I always thought it was a good thing. It’s what other people claimed they liked and wanted. It was something I wanted.
Now that I am eighteen and out of high school, I am being forced into this thing nobody’s heard of: The Real World. For so long I wanted to be in the exact position I am now, out of high school, going to college in Manhattan, new everything, a fresh start. How could I not be happy? This is what I wanted. What I thought I wanted. Well, if you know me you know that I either think way too much about something, or not at all. In this case it was not at all. Of course I can’t avoid growing older and every year have a continuously increasing number label me into a different category of the stages of life. But I wish I had prepared myself more. I in no way miss high school, but I am definitely not prepared for college. I wish I was, but the stress and pressure behind education and the piece of paper that will define me in every interview and potential career almost isn’t worth it. I want to learn, but without the damn pressure behind it.
Basically I am saying that Eighteen is not at all what I expected it to be. I saw myself already working, advancing in my passions, moving out of the house, going out most weekends, meeting tons of new people, but it is the exact opposite. I can change this myself, but how? Where do I start? I have no idea what I want to do with my life but everyone around me seems as if they’re headed in the direction they’ve always wanted. I thought I had my shit together but boy was I wrong. Supposedly I’m an adult, but I still feel like I’m 14. I can’t make decisions for shit. I wish I could go back just a few years and really focus on myself more instead of pretending the universe would do it for me. I thought I knew who I was, but the real world slaps you hard. Right in the face.
So, Eighteen? Eighteen.