Sixteen

Well, I made it to the big one-six. The birthday that every kid in America waits for. For the boys, it’s usually the driving–the impending freedom and open road that a license will soon bring. For the girls, it’s usually the dating–being cared for by someone who says they want us.

I will be doing neither in the near future, thank God.

Sixteen hasn’t brought any changes for me yet; not that I’ve given it a lot of time to do so, it’s only been two days.

And honestly, I’m not sure I want any of the changes sixteen would like to provide.

I’m not super into adulthood at this point; I’m barely surviving as a teen.

Right now, I’m curious as to what sixteen is supposed to be like. This is the big birthday! Shouldn’t I be feeling more grown up, or excited, or responsible, or like I can take on the world? C’mon, this is the only birthday that gets its own adjective (excluding golden birthdays), and I feel like nothing’s happened?

What exactly is the big deal about sixteen? Woo hoo, I’m getting closer to having to find a job so I can pay for the gas in the car I’m going to have to learn to drive, and then take to that job that pays for gas.

Sixteen.

Yay.

Seriously, what’s the big deal about this one? I feel like my whole life, when someone turned sixteen, they were excited, embracing change and their impending adulthood.

Not me.

So, yay, sixteen. Glad you’re here.

Don’t change me ’til I’m ready.

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