I am an adult.
It just hit me. Here I am, sitting at my desk (yes, I have nothing better to do), nearly through my fourth week of internship, eighteen years seven months and twenty-one days old, and it just hit me.
I sure as heck don’t feel like an adult. I didn’t wake up in May with the sudden urge to buy a house, drink beer, make aunty jokes at weddings and perm my hair. I still read kids’ fantasy. I still roll about the living room, flopped on the floor, watching any random cartoon that isn’t Rocket Monkeys or Kick Buttowski or, God forbid, NUMB CHUCKS. I haven’t gotten over Percy Jackson like my dad predicted, and I have not any burgeoning desire to read Khaled Hosseini or Haruki Murakami.
It also just hit me with the fact that many people my age have already:
a) built houses in Africa
b) programmed groundbreaking apps
c) built their own cars
d) learnt to speak 27 different languages
e) saved the world from annihilation
Okay, that last one isn’t true. But sometimes it makes me wonder what exactly I’m doing with my life. These kids have already accomplished so much, and here I am, trying to type out a personal statement without sounding unintelligent or confused while still being myself.
*throws hands up in the air*
AND I’M NOT ALLOWED TO BE SARCASTIC – because I am a mature, forward-thinking adult.
But I am an adult. I may still mess up the room I share with my sisters, accidentally scrape other cars while squeezing through lanes, get scolded by my mother, play the piano horribly, but I am an adult. I most certainly don’t feel like an adult, and I’m not sure I’m mentally prepared to be one. Some days I just want to curl up and hope that I turn into my six-year-old self again. I probably wouldn’t even mind that I would be overweight.
But I am an adult. And I will continue becoming an adult, although I need to keep reminding myself of that fact. One day, I’m sure I will remind myself of that fact so often that it will disappear altogether. I think that will be the day I become an adult.
And while I will continue becoming an adult, I will also continue getting older. One day, I will die. And then people will have a function all for my sake and I won’t be there to enjoy it. Oh, the irony. But maybe I won’t even have a funeral. Maybe by then the world and the environment will be so degraded humans will be dropping down like flies and death becomes a norm and no one will bother with funerals any more.
Now there’s a depressing thought.
But right now I have to get back to writing an intelligent and coherent personal statement.
I am an adult, I am an adult, I am an adult, I am –