Yesterday was my seventeenth birthday. After receiving this amazing mug from my parents (among other nerdy gifts) and realizing that I can now watch rated-R movies without feeling like a criminal, it hit me that I’m, like, old. I mean, imp not particularly old when compared to adults, but I’m a lot older than I feel right now. The point I’m trying to make is that I don’t feel seventeen years old. Seventeen is that magical of year of love and happiness and infinite fun, according to Seventeen magazine. (It does not directly say this, but it’s the impression I get every time another issue comes in the mail- yes, I am *sigh* a subscriber.) But I don’t feel like I fit into that category. Why would this year suddenly be different from all the years before it? Yes, things will change, but I doubt that a radical or dramatic difference will occur.
I woke up this morning, Day Two of being seventeen, and wondered when my age, body, and mind will sync up and align. I don’t feel seventeen, nor do I think I look like I’m seventeen. But I am, and that’s what I have to remember. I’m on the brink of adulthood but still firmly tethered to adolescence. I can go see rated-R movies but I’m not allowed to show my shoulders in school (yes, my school’s dress code is ridiculous.) Such is the society we live in, where teenagers are expected to have the responsibilities of adults but still follow the same rules that applied to them as children. It’s frustrating and confusing. Although, the years fly by so quickly that before I know it I’ll be a nostalgic adult wishing for a few more years of carefree adolescence.
Birthdays have always been this way for me. They make me nostalgic and confused and excited all at the same time. And who knows, maybe Seventeen magazine is right- perhaps this year really will be amazing. Let’s hope so!