You see, being an adult isn't the thing I am, in any way, fond of (as if I had a choice...), well partially because I am not the type of girl that likes to put anything upon my shoulder, and mostly because I'm still a child. I'm just a child like any others. I still watch Spy Kids, for fuck's sake! And I still laugh at silly Knock-knock jokes. The thing is, the whole world thinks that just because I'm officially eighteen years old, I am capable of almost everything. The idea of being able to legally work a full-time job totally terrifies me, let alone leaving my family in just a few years to start living my independent life.
Indeed, I am now considered an adult. But all of them seem to have forgotten that, before I blew out the candles, I was a child - still shaking under the covers in the dark when the lights are all out. That instant moment after the candles were blown out, it was as if my childishness had left without a farewell. In my parents' desperate eyes that looked for their matured daughter, I tried searching for my innocence, my wild heart, the memories of laughing at alphabet soup and crying over the last candy that my sister did not spare me, my youth, the mistakes I made; yet, I only saw expectations - the hopes of their daughter to outgrow her fear, to achieve what they failed to achieve, to go through a metamorphosis after hatching. Right at that instant moment, I truly felt eighteen: unwillingly, fearfully.
It isn't that I felt like it was the end of the world, but truth be told, I'm really not ready for adulthood. Everything happens too soon, I wasn't fully prepared for it. I was told that I had seventeen years to have myself emotionally and physically prepared for maturity, but I tell you now, it really isn't enough. There are still shitload of things I haven't learned but waiting to be done all by myself. I'm scared. I'm afraid of failing to accomplish what I am expected to succeed. Nevertheless, I am afraid to learn that I am a loser - compare with all the other beginners in adulthood, they do everything better than I do. One of my friends moved out at the age of eighteen and started her career as a journalist working for Vanity magazine - it's hell of a good paying job, I'm telling you. The day before my eighteenth birthday, I could still reassure myself that it was because "I'm still seventeen, I'm still too young for this," but now that I have become an adult, I can no longer outrun the excuse of being "still young". I am honestly disappointed in myself, for all that I could have been and done but never had the courage to.
The biggest reason on top of all these that makes being eighteen suck is that, I have known these all along - my failure in achieving big, the ability to be independent, the need to overcome all my fear, etc. - but was never strong enough to face them until my eighteenth birthday. It sucks to finally have to face all the crap in just one day, and to admit that I have been a loser for the past seventeen years.
There are many things I wish I could have done before eighteen, and the things I wish I did not waste my time doing, but this is life - not sure if it's fortunate or not, we cannot turn back time to undo the past. All we have is today, and the hopes for tomorrow. And for those who have not yet reached eighteen, treasure your precious youth, never be afraid to dream big, face your weaknesses and make good use of your strengths - you never know what you are capable of until you give everything a shot. I sure do not hope to hear another adult-beginner whining about how it sucks to be eighteen.
