‘Who let me be an adult?’ Editor thinks on future


When I was little, I remember thinking how cool and grown up 16-year-olds or even anybody in high school was. I used to admire the way that they seemed so sure of themselves, like they were the best thing since sliced bread.
Now I laugh that I ever thought such a thing, mostly because I hate teenagers and vote to exile them until they’re 20 but also because I’m nearing my 21st birthday and I still don’t feel like a grown-up.
I’m beginning my senior year in college and I feel as young as ever and it doesn’t help that I usually actually am the youngest of my peers.
I’m feeling ambivalent, but slightly apprehensive about being on the pathway to actually beginning my life and when people ask me the age-old question of, “what do you want to do after graduation?” my answer is always, “I have absolutely no clue,” which sends me into a quarter-life crisis that makes me question what I’m doing with my existence.
I was probably in middle school when I realized my path in life – finish high school, go to college, get a degree and then get a job that I love. Now that I am embarking on the last leg of this journey, I’m getting anxious.
Where will I be this time next year? What will I be doing? The methodic rhythm of academia that has been my life for the past 16 years is coming to an end, and now that I’m realizing this, I’m beginning to freak out a little.
A part of me wants to skip to commencement, skip over my senior thesis, skip over my entire senior year and all the stressors that come with it, but another part of me wants to cherish this last taste of “childhood” that I know I will miss when it’s gone.
Gone are the days when I could do whatever I wanted because I wasn’t scheduled to work. No more summers off or working only part time. No more having random weekdays off to enjoy. No more skating through life on six cups of coffee and five hours of sleep.
It’s becoming more and more apparent that I have to put on my big girl pants and face the world head-on, though I’d rather just curl up in bed with a soft blanket and watch Netflix.
I don’t want to be an adult. I don’t want to be responsible for myself. First it’s a job, then it’s moving out and getting my own place. What’s next? Paying my own bills? Becoming a functioning human being?
I’m not ready to be an adult. I don’t even know how to adult. Who let me be an adult? I’m definitely not ready for this.
In all seriousness, I really am both scared and excited for what lies ahead. I don’t know what I’m going to end up doing or where I’ll end up living or if I’ll even like any of it, but I do know that whatever happens, this is the beginning of the rest of my life – and I’m here to take it by storm.
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