You said you were mad I wasn’t writing anymore, so here you go.
The most terrifying moment I’ve experienced in my young life is realizing I’m technically what young Rachel would have considered a grown-up.
My mother still makes my doctor’s appointments, I still don’t know the difference between a W2 and a W4, and I still sleep with the same teddy bear I have since birth, but in every sense of the word, I’m an adult.
I graduate in June, and people keep asking me what my plans are. Who am I marrying? Where am I moving? Am I moving back home? Am I staying in SLO? What about you and Ryan? Have you talked about all this?
And yet, in the same breath, they also say “well, you’re so young. You really don’t have to have it all figured out yet.” Yet so many of my peers do, or at least they’re acting like it. So there is this constant, never-ending panic that sits in my stomach because growing up is all I ever looked forward to. I used to pray for time to fast forward, and now I fervently pray for the opposite.
Everything is moving too. Damn. Fast.
Mix this daily existential crisis with the state of the world as it is currently, and you get one frazzled mess of a girl who can’t even drink alcohol legally yet, which is quite frustrating because after all this stress, who couldn’t use a drink?
Frazzled, however, does not mean hopeless. Sure, I don’t quite have my sea legs yet, but I’m treading water which I’m sure everyone can agree is better than drowning.
I’m supposed to be researching companies for the career fair, but instead I lie on the floor of the library penning this episode of brain vomit instead. Just in case there’s anyone else out there panicking over knowing absolutely nothing at quite possibly the most self-defining moment of your life: you’re not alone.
It’s okay to not have it figured out. Maybe we can all just freak out and lie on the floor of the library together some time.