Sign On The Dotted Line
I just applied to officially declare my major at my University. This means that I only have two years left until I receive my degree. In two years, I’ll be an adult. I mean according to society I’m an adult now. In reality, I’m at that weird age in life where I’m expected to act like an adult but I feel like a child. You know that time when you feel like a complete failure, but you know that you’re not. You feel like everything you do will end in disaster no matter what. I mean, last week I called my mum to ask her if I should refrigerate a mango! An adult would know these things. An adult doesn’t call their parents when they can’t figure out how to do their taxes or what temperature chicken should be cooked to. I know I am an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one. I’m not an adult, adult. I don’t have a mortgage or a wedding ring. I’m not tied down by a 9 to 5 job. I’m not texting my husband asking who’s going to pick up the kids this week. I’m still a student. I’m on the intersection between childhood and adulthood and I’m fucking terrified. At any moment, a truck could crash into me. Or I could realise that I’m at the wrong road alltogether. The ideas of a career, marriage, mortgage and kids are terrifying. The idea that they may not be that far off is even more [so] terrifying.
So in honour of my non-adulthood I have created a list of things an adult knows how to do that I don’t:
Adults know how to match their socks to there pants. I wore a pair of fuzzy socks, leggings and combat boots yesterday.
Adults know how to cook breakfast. I’ve been eating frozen waffles everyday for a month now.
Adults keep schedules. I found a crumpled to do list at the bottom of my bag last week.
Adults know how to fix things. My roommates and I had to call maintenance when our fire alarm broke so that they could put in a new battery.
Adults understand taxes. I use TurboTax and hope for the best.
I am not an adult, I’m a big child who still has a night light. (because it looks like the Enterprise, okay.) I’m a child who is terrified at the prospect of doing adult things with adult people. Like, mingling at parties and eating a minimal amount of hors devours (not the whole tray.) Or knowing how to make an actual meal with real meat (which I’m currently terrified to cook by myself.)
And so I handed over my future to a woman with curly hair, a happy smile and glasses. It felt like a cataclysmic moment dealing my fate. In two years I’ll graduate and a piece of paper will reflect that very moment: Madeline Potts, Journalism Degree. I worked so hard to sign that sheet of paper, there should be no reason that I’m scared out of my mind, but I am. In two years I have to apply for jobs, I’ll have to move and learn how to be an adult. It’s so terrifying. Sometimes taking a leap is terrifying. All these thoughts have been racing through my head and it’s one AM (which adults don’t stay up till) and I’ve decided that I’m undeniably petrified of the idea of being an adult. But are we ever actually adults? Will I still feel this way when I’m 40? Probably.