Since I was young, people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up.
And when I was little, because being a "grown up" seemed so far away, I thought I could be anyone I wanted to be. (Because I would eventually get there anyway with all the time that I had left)
I wanted to be President. I wanted to be an Olympian. I wanted to be a firefighter. I wanted to be the person who lit the fireworks on the fourth of July. I wanted to be the weatherman on the news. I wanted to be a voice actor for Disney. Hell, throw in my own Disney TV show while we're at it too.
And now, the future is a couple of years away.
And the time I thought I had vanished with it.
I turn 18 next year. I'm one year away from adulthood.
And that's scary. Because 17 years later I still don't know what I want.
People tell me that I should follow my dreams. But I should also be realistic.
What does that even mean?
It's funny because since I was a kid, I wanted to grow up.
I wanted to push a shopping cart around and buy my own groceries and have a career and accomplish real things and wear high heels to work and to have a briefcase and drink coffee in the morning while reading the New York Times (like the actual articles and not just the comics section).
And now that it's actually time for me to grow up, I don't feel ready. I'm scared of change. I'm scared of committing. I'm scared to decide where to apply to college. I'm scared of leaving. I'm scared of moving on.
I know that it's going to happen and it's going to happen no matter what, but that doesn't make me any less scared.