In my posts several months ago, I mentioned feeling carefree and unconcerned about the future, like I was living in a bubble while everyone around me scrambled for footing in life. Last night, that finally ended. Reality suddenly overtook me.
This isn’t freshman year, where young teens dreamily speculate about where they want to go to college. It’s not fantasy anymore. This is reality. We’re all going to be applying to colleges in the fall–just a matter of months. In less than a year-and-a-half, I’ll be moving into the dorms, ripping myself away from everyone I love and everything I know.
How? How am I going to be an adult? Peanut butter sandwiches and packages of instant mac & cheese are at the far reaches of my cooking abilities. I take three suitcases for what a normal adult could pack into one. I’m not completely incompetent; I truly believe that if I was thrust into my own apartment, I’d be able to survive. I’m just terribly clumsy at just about everything. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see someone who should be taking SATs. I see the twelve-year-old me who used to gossip about which One Direction member was the hottest, the seventh grader who dreamed of getting to buy unlimited sparkle-studded skinny jeans at Justice. Since when am I just months away from being on my own?
Part of me would rather just go back to those horrible middle school years. I’d rather be insecure about my neon lunchbox and going to bed at 9 PM. I’m not ready to be an adult. I’ve finally gotten settled in to a happy state of being, but, so typical of life, everything has to change.