I was going through my old drafts and found this post I wrote a year and a half ago. There’s so many posts that go unpublished, but I thought I’d share this one in particular…
Photo creds: Nylon Magazine
I don’t care what anyone says, 19 is a weird age. Just a year ago I clumsily made my way over into the world of adulthood, and next year I’ll be entering my roaring twenties. Why do you do this to me life? I feel like the equivalent of a fetus being shoved into a wedding gown and attempting to have the first father/daughter wedding dance. Ridiculous? Exactly. Though “technically” I’m considered an adult in the legal world, it definitely doesn’t feel like it. And it definitely hasn’t stopped me from riding the swings at the park, eating PB&J sandwiches for breakfast or learning life lessons from Arthur (having fun isn’t hard when you have a library card.)
As a kind-of-sort-of adult in training, I’m definitely starting to feel the pressures of growing up and figuring out what to do with my life, coping with failure and trying not to feel inadequate amongst the myriad of friends off doing what’s expected of us. As in, maybe I should be the manager of some charity by now or at the very least, dragging my feet through undergrad like everyone else. Geez, that was more painful to write than I intended it to be. With just a couple of weeks of being 19 under my belt, and a whole lot of time to kill, I’ve decided this year will be a time of growth and change for me. I’m no longer asking the sun and moon to bless me with a good year, but I’m stepping my foot down and focusing on the things I have control over, rather than situations where the steering wheels have long since fallen off down the road.
I want to become a better writer. I think for the past year or so I fell into the hole, where, writing was “easy” to me. I would push off assignments until the last moment, and carelessly write journal entries and blog posts that I’d cook up in a few minutes. But that isn’t truly writing. No. Writing is hard, it’s a gruelling process of sweat and tears and maybe a jar or two of nutella (not that I’d know). After venturing into the “writing” side of wordpress, I’ve discovered bloggers my age who’ve blown my mind with their ability to weave brilliant sentiments through the english language. Their skill and dedication to writing has made me question my own passion for writing, and has pushed me to practice and become a (hopefully) better writer than I was a year ago. A month ago. A day ago. It’s a never ending process of questioning my own worth as a writer and I’m enjoying it while I can.
Feeling the fear and doing things anyway.
I’m a major scaredy cat and tend to avoid or over analyze situations where I feel exposed and judged. Like posting a cheeky instagram photo (because god forbid my friends find out I’m into fashion, or think I’m trying too hard or too little). Or perhaps speaking to those pesky University recruiters who are cold and indifferent and maybe a little judgemental at times. I’m far too meek and scared and always thinking of how others perceive me. But now, I think it’s time to step up to the plate to mold the future I want. It’s okay if my blog posts aren’t perfect and only my sister likes my posts. It’s fine.
Have confidence in my decisions.
Hell yeah, I’ll take time off if I want to. Find success if I want to… eat cake if my heart so desires.