“Age is but a number”
“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“Youth is wasted is on the young”
I find myself sitting here on the eve of my eighteenth birthday thinking more and more about lines like those above. I have always been a tad swept up in the craze of birthdays mostly because I do believe living another year is something to celebrate at any age, can’t say the cake and presents hurt though. Even so my personal birthday’s have rarely reserved a spot of deep contemplation in my conscious mind. There have always been moments like at thirteen when I was so proud to be a teenager, or at seventeen when I could finally see R movies in theaters and promptly flaunted it by going to see Django Unchianed. There are perks that come with that forever growing number we call age but it has never thrown me into pensiveness quite like I am now.
For years now I’ve had adults treat me as an equal because I have proven that I am dependable and “mature beyond my years” to steal a much used line I have some trouble believing. This has meant I have experienced many on a level not all my peers have delved into but also means I have loaded immense pressure on to my back at every turn. I have a very hard time saying no to any request for aid because I feel obligated to perform at a level of constant supportiveness: it has been cultivated in my psyche. So now as I look upon my final night as (in the eyes of the law, state, and any other organization that wants my blood, money, or time if not in mine) a child I see my birthday more as a recognition of a state I feel I have already attained.
In no way do I want to imply that I see myself as an adult, rather I see myself as many times fitting better into circles populated by adults more than peers. I have my wonderful circle of friends but it is easier to sympathize with an adult who has a back much like man in comparison to my friends who are generally in much better physical states. My peers have always told me I’m an old man in a child’s body and its wondrously odd how accurate that is sometimes. But I digress.
As of tomorrow I can vote, am required to register for the draft, can buy scratch tickets, and receive all these other little perks chances are I won’t utilize. I don’t expect to wake up feeling any different. There will be no magical coming of age night where I suddenly transition into feeling like an adult. That won’t happen. In all actuality I hope to let go a little of my responsibilities. Not in the sense of leaving all those things I’ve committed to behind but rather by accepting that life is full of moments when we realize some things just can’t compare. I see and respect the importance of my math homework but it will never hold the weight or lasting impact with me that having a heartfelt discussion with someone I love about our struggles will. In recognized adulthood I hope I can grow and mature in my ability to choose gratifying pursuits over trivial pressures I have applied to myself for the needs of others. I shall embrace a little more Carlin and a little less Holmes.
twonames15 