I’m excited to be 19 for the obvious reason, legality!! Now yours truly can buy her own wine. Everyone else seems equally as excited for me considering every birthday message I have received has talked about alcohol in some way and or had an emoji of a wine glass. Yes, yes it’s all very exciting, not having to worry about getting a fake ID or asking someone to buy you drinks for a party. I’m officially an adult (technically, not mentally). Everyone waits and waits to be older, they can’t wait until there old enough to go out and drive and drink, we want to do it all, and eventually we all will, however one thing I’ve never done is wish away the years. Although 19 will hopefully treat me well and be a lot of fun, 16 was a great year too. Every year offers something different, 16 I can drive, 18 I can buy lottery tickets and now 19 I can drink. I’m extremely excited to see what this year has to offer, however as I sit in bed the day after my birthday I’m also a tad frightened. The real, adult world is approaching, at a very fast rate, and I’m not quite sure if I’m ready for it. Next year is 20, a lot happens in your twenties, you graduate school, you get a job, you get married, you buy a place of your own, you have kids. I realize I’m getting a little ahead of myself here but the point is shit happens, and it happens fast and before you know it you’re legally an adult but feel more like a mature 15 year old and your mom doesn’t have to sign any of your forms for you. And this is extremely frightening because you never know where you’re supposed to sign and still aren’t quite sure how to book a dentist appointment. Everyone always says these are the best years of your life, and I really do believe that and truthfully I’d love to be a teenager forever. Old enough to lead your own life but not old enough to have real adult responsibilities. A time designated to being reckless, and finding yourself and making memories you’ll tell your kids one day with the line “but don’t do the things I did when I was your age” after them. It’s the time in your life designated to screwing up, and it’s totally okay because it’s just a simple fact that teenagers mess up and do stupid stuff. Your mom talks about what a handful you’re going to be once you’re 13 and wants to kill you until you turn 20 because you’re messy and rude and self-absorbed. But so was she, and she knew you would be so she’s okay with it. Your worst day ever will be something you’ll laugh about when you tell the story but your best day ever will still be your best day ever. Because you’ll always want to relive that night when you and your friends did the dumbest stuff you could think of and had the time of your lives. I’ve gone on a bit of a rant here but the fact of the matter is, I hope this last year of teenagehood (making my own words here so bare with me) goes by slow and if full of “best day ever” days.