Childhood Countdown.

As my eighteenth birthday approaches, I thought it appropriate to read back on the blogs I have written in the last 6 months. The blog explaining my confused feelings about my status made me smile. In 2 days I am officially a legal adult.

I highly doubt in 2 days my parents will treat me any differently, although stating that I am "18 years old" seems to be more effective than "seventeen and a half." I highly doubt in 2 short days I will feel any differently than I do now.

So why on earth do I feel so apprehensive about it?

I have waited SO long to be 18, seriously the independence factor seems like a huge deal.

To me, being eighteen means you are officially an adult in the eyes of the law- and that's good enough for me. It means I can have a say in the running of the country as I can vote. It means I can go out and drink. It MEANS I can literally do whatever my parents can do. I am no longer a child with limited options. I can do whatever I like! Right?

Wrong.
DAMN

I am stupidly giddy with excitement. Writing down the number of days left to go on my wrist and holding the amount of days left on my fingers until my friends stick the middle finger up at me. Truth is, I cannot wait.

But then yesterday, as I expressed my complete and utter impatience for my birthday my grandfather decided now would be a time to tell me that he can remember when he was eighteen, and how it seemed like yesterday...and HOW going from 18 to 83 had gone oh too quickly. He spoke about deterioration, the aches and pains of being old. How much he longed to be that age again... and how quickly it will all go for me now.

Thanks Bamp.

I had a driving lesson today, and I was cruising along outside the city centre and announced to him that I was in fact, 18 in 2 days. He then informed me it was his birthday today!
Totally BAFFLED why on earth he would book me in for a lesson on his birthday I asked him if he was mad.

He told me he forgot when his birthday was.

He FORGOT?! WHAT?!

He told me how he hated birthdays after his eighteenth, how 19, 20, 21 and so on were a constant reminder that life will never be that fun again...and he was slowly creeping towards death.

That's lovely.
Thank you very much.

But, despite your predictions, I am convinced I will love EVERY birthday and life does not end at eighteen. If anything...

This is only the beginning :)