Disclaimer: Anything written in this blog represents the opinions of the author, and no one else. Each blog is written lightly, and is not intended to offend any of the mentioned businesses, locations, students, or staff.

I’m scared. I’m terrified, actually. From the outside, I look like the average female college student, but inside I’m quivering. Every day that passes in which I pull off my calm facade, is another day that passes that I am not being fully truthful. Sure, I’m alright. I’m doing just fine. But behind all of my everyday activities and small successes, is a confused girl who actually has no idea what she is doing.

Now, that makes me sound like some sad, lost puppy that has no idea what he/she is doing. No, I am not lost. No, I am not sad. But, I am pretty sure that I am making up more than half of the moves that I make every day.

On my eighteenth birthday my mother (who seemed quite relieved that I had made it safely past high school without either dropping out, developing a substance problem, or losing all of my morals and just becoming really, really annoying) told me that adulthood is just like childhood, except with a whole lot more paperwork. At the moment, I denied her words as the truth because I was overwhelmed with the freedoms to buy scratch tickets or get a tattoo if I wished and the opportunity to say “Don’t treat me like a child” with true conviction because I was actually no longer a legal child.

Now, the excitement has calmed down and I pass my nineteenth birthday realizing that all adulthood means for me at the moment is signing a whole lot more things, paying off student loans, and not being able to hide behind the phrase “I didn’t know” anymore. Ultimately, I am beginning to realize that my mother was on point with her statement. (Yes mom, you were right. *Sigh*)

As much as I battle amongst my peers to make myself appear more unique than the next, I am realizing that being an adult does not make me Superwoman and, unfortunately, it takes a whole lot less than kryptonite to hinder me. Fortunately, at the same time, I am learning that this process of being hindered and figuring it out anyways is the process of life. I do not know exactly what I am doing (and here’s a fun fact: neither does anyone else, no matter what they tell you), and the fun of life and adulthood is figuring it out.