As I write this, it is less than five hours for my nineteenth birthday. Yep, I am finally entering the last ‘teen’ year of my life, never to return again, soon to lose my youth and everything else I hold dear – my sheltered life of not figuring out how to adult.
So as you can see, I’m taking growing older splendidly.
But yeah, turning eighteen was pretty damn magnificent. I was finally legally allowed to do things I had probably done before I should’ve. Now I could vote (gotta get that Voter’s ID made) and marry (have to find a willing guy for that), but most importantly, I could now watch R-rated films without any hassle – HELLO, DEADPOOL.
Turning nineteen comes at a pretty chaotic juncture in my life. I’ve only just taken an ‘Application for Major’ form which basically means I need to choose a subject I want to write six papers for and then graduate in it next June, pretty simple. Except for the little fact that means life as I know is soon coming to an end. Time flies pretty quickly, and soon I’ll be leaving college with no idea of what to do with my life.
If you would’ve asked me last year, around this time what I wanted to do, I would’ve had an answer for you. But now? I’m not so sure I do. Hell, sometimes I’m not sure about what I’m doing either. I’ve dreamed about coming and studying at St. Xavier’s since I was in the seventh grade, about eleven years old. And I knew I would have five glorious years to bask in the marvel that my college it. But I’ve just got the one year to go now – and I seem to have done everything I could in all these years, but sometimes, I just wish I could spend some more time here.
I know life goes on, days blur into each other. There are teenagers who just got confirmed the previous Sunday whom I knew as little kids. I used to help them sit quietly and pay attention during mass; they came to me for advice when I got into Junior College – on how to convince their parents to send them across the city for more than half the day. Now I see them writing their twelfth board exams, having more of a social life than I ever did and I’m just nostalgic for those simpler times.
For those simpler times when I knew what I wanted to do in life, and even had a couple backup plans, for when I trusted people blindly, for when I could get away with not keeping up with current things and not get strange looks in class, for when I was not such a calculated person.
As the clock ticks and I get closer to being nineteen, I’m not ready to say goodbye to my teen years. Next year, I’ll be graduating at twenty and I hope I have something in mind to do in the coming future. Life is so bloody complex, and it gets worse as you grow older. I know I sound like an old fuddy-duddy, but as someone who is conflicted about change and its effects, the ‘growing older’ part doesn’t necessarily mean good things.
But then again, I also strongly stand by the beliefs that life never hands us more than we can handle & that everything happens for a reason. I just have to find reasons, find my way and then accept it, no matter what the results may be.
This post is also a way of saying thank you.
If you’re reading this and you know me IRL please know that:
- You have probably made me smile at some point.
- You’ve probably influenced me in some way or the other – I tend to pick up your best bits and mould it to make it my own.
- You’ve probably taught me how dangerous it is to trust you.
- You’ve taught me that life goes on, and sometimes you have to be left behind.
- You’ve laughed with me, shared my secrets in return for yours, been my friend or more, and I have learned so much from you.
And if you I know you online (probably from Twitter or my blog) then thank you for taking time to make friends with someone across the world, making her feel good and making her smile.
My life isn’t a white or black piece of paper, it is filled with colours from all of you and I thank you for lifting the brush and painting a stroke or two, whether you’ve known me for five months or five years or since forever, you have changed my life. For the better.
Thank you. Here’s to nineteen more years, if not more.
Until next time,