If age sued maturity in a court case, maturity would win.
I began my freshman year of college at age 17. Having a mid-November birthday means that in all my years of school, my friends have always been close to a full year older than me. In many ways, that makes a big difference.
I feel as though I’ve matured quickly. At 16, I was accepted and knew where I was going to college. At 17, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my next four years. I’m turning 19 in a little over a month, but I feel like I’m turning 21 or 22, at least. Most of my friends are turning 20 this year, and I think I act like a 20 or 21 year old.
It’s crazy to think that there are students in their final year of high school at 18 while I am in my second year of college at the same age. Two years ago, I had no idea who I was becoming (although I thought I did). I don’t know where I’ll be in five years, but I know where I want to be.
I think about things like my future career, where I will live after college, and marriage all the time. But I’m 18.
Half of me wants to grow older faster, and half of me wants to go back a few years, or stay where I am for awhile longer. There is something wonderful about 18, and also something strange. It’s a beautiful stage of life, and yet everything is changing around me all the time. I have to adjust a lot, but I’m not complaining. It’s a complicated time. And still, I feel ready to take on the world.