Oh my Oh myy.

When you're sixteen you drive.
Eighteen you gamble, smoke, buy porn, and tell your parents that you're an adult and they can't tell you what to do. ( You rebel you... )
Twenty one, drink.
Twenty three, get lost.
Twenty four, think about turning twenty five.
Twenty five, realize that ten years ago, you weren't even driving, but people expect you to be an adult.


Hey.
I'm a novice here. I am very new at being an adult. I can live alone, pay my bills, and have intelligent conversations about the President if need be. But deep down in my guts, I can't wait for it to be summer because maybe this is the year that I'll have a throw back moment and have 3 months of a vacation to stay up way too late with my friends, sitting on random living room floors listening to music and talking about where we're going next. Isn't that what I'm accustomed to? Work nine months out of the year, play for the three warm ones, then back to work.


Everyone wants to tell you about your teenaged years. Then they wanna talk about being an adult. Not a single soul sat me down to say --- HEY from the time you turn twenty three, probably until the time you turn thirty, you're gonna feel like a child playing dress up. And you're not gonna really know where to fit in or how to make a spot for yourself.
Too young to have enough experience to be taken seriously by most adults.
Too old to have really all that much in common with anyone 21 and younger.
Out of place.


No one took the time to tell you that your mid to late twenties very well may be the most awkward time of life.


I don't even fit into adult clothes yet. But baby, you can go right ahead and stamp "determined breadwinner" across my forehead. I think I'll scare any legit adult into giving me the time of day.
Milk money style.
I could end up in jail, but by the time I'm a real legit adult, my record will be clean again. And by that point, hopefully I won't be talking about threatening grown ups for their milk money and going to jail for it.


I'm going to wax my entire body while I'm still young.
FIVE WEEKS TIL SPRING. Five weeks until temporary sanity. Five weeks until I will stop wrapping my brain around life.
Yikes. Yiiiikes.