Happy Birthday to Me

So this post looks a lot like I’m fishing for birthday wishes. I’m not, I promise, but if you would like to wish me a happy birthday I will gladly accept it.

Yesterday I turned 17. It feels the same as 16, honestly, though it’s only been a day. Maybe it will feel different later.

When I turned 16 I was devestated that life wasn’t turning out the way I wanted it to. When I was younger I had all these ideas of who I’d be and what I would have by the time I was 16. I thought I would have my driver’s license, a car, a boyfriend. I thought I would be this mature, elegant person and have my life figured out for the most part. Granted, I did set these expectations when I was 12. I did a lot of stupid things when I was 12. I didn’t realize it would effect me so much as a 16 year old (was that the right effect to use? what is the difference between effect and affect?).

Anyway, my 16th birthday sucked, but that made my birthday this year really great. I didn’t have any expectations for myself or anything like that. I feel like I’ve grown a lot as a person and will continue to grow throughout this year, my last year of high school.

It’s kind of scary to think I will turn 18 right before I go to college. I will be an adult for a month before I’m on my own.

Ahhh….

That was another thing last year. I was just so scared for the future. I was scared because I didn’t know what was going to happen or how to get the things done that were supposed to happen. Finding a college to go to? Taking the ACT? What?? And since I had all these unmet expectations as a 16 year old, I was afraid that all of my expectations were going to be unmet from there on out. I was afraid that things would never work out.

Because I was so scared and sad and disappointed on my birthday, I started writing in this journal my grandmother had gotten me. It wasn’t the first time I had journaled or written in a diary, but it was the first time I let my raw emotions out onto the page. I actually found the journal entry the other day and cried while reading it. There was just so much fear in me….

Anyway, after writing that I thought that I needed somewhere better for my thoughts to go, somewhere one of my siblings couldn’t so easily find and read and worry about me. I started this blog a few month after. So you know, that’s a good thing. 

I’m very glad not to be 16 anymore. 17 is the start of something new, or really, the end of something old as my high school and teenage years begin to come to a close.

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