Eighteen

Hey, Hello, How are you doing?

Forgive me for neglecting this space on the internet, I must apologize, it has been awhile . . .

This morning I woke up with the same familiar unescapable turn in my stomach as I learnt I'd soon turn eighteen, and what it meant. But this time, I couldn't shake it.

I could have cried into my sandwich but instead thought I'd share my jumble of thoughts almost as an apology. 

I guess I got a bit scared, I felt a bit stuck in the moment, pushing away pieces in my brain refusing to allow it to be understood. Grown ups usually don't sit and sulk. Grown ups usually have their minds made up. 

So why on earth was that appealing? 

When and why did it strike me that being a grown up was a fun idea? 

Why do we spend most of our childhoods wanting to become an adult, only to regret the choices we've made?

Then I remembered. 

I was terrified, absolutely scared to death of being on the wrong path, and hating where I was headed in my life. I felt like everything I was doing was a waste of time. I'm vaguely content with my somewhat messy life so why did this nauseating anxiety creep around my bones, whirling my insides, as every day passed by? 

I felt inferior. I knew that every time I spoke or answered a question. I felt completely out of my depth, as though I was a 3 year old attempting to give a speech in Chinese. It's ridiculous. 

Here's the first thought that stopped me in my tracks, I have found beautiful people that accept me for who I am, am not, flaws and what not yet I still refuse to accept myself. 

Thank you, beautiful person for accepting who I am even though I still refuse to accept myself. You know who you are.