Tomorrow I am Eighteen. Eighteen. Wow. I have a feeling nothing in my life is going to change. Pessimistic? No, just coming to sense the inevitable reality upon me. Nothing crazy good is going to happen, I will just be considered one year older, considered an adult, but no major changes will occur. No running away with the fairytale prince, no military enlistment, no young hopeless marriage, no apartment on my own writing and living completely indy. Nupe. Na. Nope. Nada.
Instead, I will continue this lifestyle. Breathing. In and out. Looking forward to what lies ahead and forgetting the past. Looking forward to Spain and to education and to new love and experiencing the world outside of the small southern town I currently reside in. I do not call it home. I am not home. My home is not of this world.
Ah, I just remembered; I do get to do something "crazy good" upon reaching adulthood: I am privileged to have the opportunity to down a half-gallon of Breyers Vanilla Swirl ice cream in the morning for breakfast, with my coffee. Nice, nice, very nice.
I have to give myself a big pat on the back since I have resisted temptation for some time now; my parents would be oh so proud. And sadly all I am for it is utterly depressed and in pain. The side effects will wear off, and the hurt will make me stronger, right? Thankfully, caffeine and food are my comforts, along with the glorious art of reading and writing, and getting encouragement and hugs-DC. So there's some optimism. Hah.
On the eve of my birthday celebration, I am open and elaborate, I am trying to be excited and jubilant. All I know is I can smoke now. Legally. And vote. and club. and get a tattoo. and run away. Oh really, be serious. Nothing changed but a day, a wrinkle in time, and a term. Adult. Well, "Here we are"
I have officially arrived.
Topped off with sime juicy sarcasm. The best kind.
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