This is the obligatory “I am going into university in less than half a year’s time” post.
This is the “I am officially a legal adult when really I barely know the difference between a credit card and debit card and the most complicated thing I’ve ever cooked was macaroni and cheese” ramble.
This is the “what happened to being four and throwing dolls into the air, six and learning that ‘peace’ is not the same as ‘piece’, and twelve and realizing that my glory days in track and field were over (but I had discovered drama so maybe I would be okay)” understanding that I am growing up, and the reason I know I am growing up is because I have felt time slip through my grasping, futile fingers.
This is the “I am not going to freak, I will stay calm, I will believe in myself and if not in myself then in my inexplicable luck at being born into a day and age where I can sing at the top of my lungs and my only dissenters are themselves hypocrites and sad, sad creatures” mantra pounding through my mind day and night, night and day.
This is the “where will I be in ten years time? Wait, maybe I should figure out who I am right now. What will I be working as, will I like my job? I mean, am I a better person now than I was before. Will I travel and see the world? No, stop; more importantly, do I like the person I am now or should I be braver, louder, more reckless” dialogue being acted out between the orators of my subconscious (and how I wish they were more like the Cicero and Cato’s of Ancient Rome).
This is the “I am not alone, this is just another milestone, I will figure things out and one day will look back on the coming days with fondness and embarrassment and laughter and nostalgia” clinging to hope that what I am entering is an age of adventure, a hero’s journey, in which I, the newly minted Adult, learn to pack my life into the space of two suitcases and figure out how to manoeuvre Providence into getting me a bearable roommate.
This is the obligatory “I am going into university in less than half a year’s time” post.
