I'm twenty-one-years old, I live with two of my best friends in an apartment in Astoria, I buy groceries, I cook, I pay my WiFi bill--the list goes on, yet I don't feel like an adult. I go out on the weekends (and sometimes during the week) at hours that no eye should really see. My friends and I sometimes make questionable decisions. I have experienced that moment where you are binge-watching Netflix and your computer goes black and says, "Are you still there?" and not only are you very much there, but you see yourself in the black screen and are frightened by your own appearance. I have adult-like qualities, and I am on the road there, but I am not quite there. There are still so many things that scare the absolute crap out of me about adulthood, but I narrowed them down to five.
1. Bills
I know I said I pay my WiFi bill, but please take note that I didn't say cable bill. That is because I don't have cable. In fact, we have a TV that is sitting there for show. Not to watch shows on, but just so it looks like we have TV. Sometimes we hook our computers up to it, but mainly it just sits there. If you saw my credit card article from last week you know my outlook on that. Bills are scary. I would like to avoid them at all costs.
2. Taxes
I literally don't have a single idea where to start. I genuinely don't know why this wasn't taught to us in high school as opposed to the riveting and unnecessary facts about say, the triangle, that would have been greatly appreciated. So, I'm sorry in advance, IRS.
3. A Relationship
Maybe it's my age, but is someone going to actually put up with me forever? Do I have to put up with them? I hate most people. This seems frightening.
4. Responsibilities
I have trouble keeping bamboo alive, so you understand this fear. I really want a dog, but I feel bad making something dependent on me. I mean a dog barks, a plant doesn't, but still.
5. A Job
A job, to pay for these bills, taxes and responsibilities, would be ideal. But a job that can pay for all of these things that I also love is the real goal. Let's be real, a job at all is ideal, but to love what you do is the real goal. I'd be happy as a clam writing novels in some mahogany and leather-filled room, but one must be realistic.
I hope you, if you are not already there, enjoy adulthood in all its capacities. In fact, I hope you are waiting for adulthood with open arms. I, on the other hand, am trying to look up the nearest emergency escape route, similar to the ones used during snow storms, to escape adulthood.
