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Image by Shawnzrossi via flickr/creative commons

Throughout high school, you go through each year thinking that you’re racing toward the finish line that is the end of your childhood. You romanticize independence as some tall, dark figure that is waiting to save you from the enemy that is your parents. But, once that finish line is in view, you may regret running so fast, or at least I do. Now that I am officially halfway through my senior year and am only five months away from graduating, the thing that used to excite me the most now frightens me.

My entire life, I’ve always had someone to tell me what to do. This is good. This is bad. There has always been someone to take responsibility for my mistakes while the only thing I had to do was endure an incredibly long lecture or maybe have some possession temporarily taken away. Now I’m approaching a time where every decision I make and every consequence that comes of it will directly affect me and only me — the seventeen year-old girl who still watches SpongeBob and likes to go see R-rated movies only because she’s “of age.”

I am at a really strange point in my life because I’m expected to be a kid and an adult all at the same time. College applications have really been an eye-opener. It’s amazing what types of questions certain institutions ask. Sometimes I think they forget we haven’t been alive for very long. Heck, sometimes even I forget that. But the fact is that I’ve seen and experienced very little, and yet I am being asked to make some huge decisions that could potentially make or break my entire future.

I know this feeling isn’t a new one. It’s probably just a bad case of big-kid-who-doesn’t-want-to-grow-up syndrome, and I should just put on my big girl panties and just suck it up. Still, it seems like just yesterday I was in my plastic princess heels having tea parties in my living room — my fairytale delusion perfectly intact, my father holding my hand, smiling.

Jasmine White About Jasmine White

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