As adulthood stares me right in the eye, I look back at the many, MANY irrational, unreasonable and downright moronic decisions I have made in the past and wonder….WHAT THE F*CK WAS I THINKING?
All the times I pretended to be someone I wasn’t just to be accepted; all the times I acted rashly, thinking I was doing the right thing; all the times I played to the gallery’s and chased the impossible ideal of “fitting in” rather than embracing my inherent weirdness that later helped me meet some of the best people I know; all the times I hurled myself at boys who showed the least bit of interest in me just because I was in love with the idea of being in love; blindly following fads that went against the sanctity of fashion (the “kareena” dress I forced my mother to buy me for my ninth birthday); all the tears shed over my B cups when most of my friends sported 34 C’s; the fights, the tantrums; I look back at all the things I thought were so phenomenally important when they happened, and now rarely cross my mind and I feel an odd sense of accomplishment. Accomplishment suffused with huge amounts of embarrassment of course, but accomplishment all the same.
I messed up, but I also dealt with my mistakes, and moved on with life. As i grew older I learned how to accept myself, flaws and all. I became a better judge of character, a better friend, a better daughter. I know I’m not the best I can be, but I’m proud of who I am, who I’ve become. I know my eighteenth birthday will just be another candle on my cake, I don’t expect some crazy transformation and maturity to come with it, but I hope that as I grow older, I get to know myself better, and love and respect myself for who I am and not for who I feel I should be. Instead of regretting the many mistakes I’v made, I hope I begin to look at them as opportunities to grow.
As I stand on the cusp of adulthood, I hope I stay true to who I am.