in thirteen days.

i’ll be 18 in thirteen days. and the only reason why i didn’t type ‘thirteen’ as ’13’ was because i somehow feel the need to separate eighteen and thirteen. because thirteen is a part of my sentence, while eighteen is the statement i am trying to make, but whatever.

i have two younger sisters of whom i love so much (obviously i’m the eldest of us three). i still enjoy working out to the Dragon Ball theme song. i am a spelling bee champion in my school, got through to the finals for seven consecutive years, but will still have to seek consolation and google words in the likes of ‘juxtaposition’ or ‘unmitigated’ for their definition when i encounter them in the internet in one of my deep readings. i’m never sure of what people refer to when they talk about pop culture and i still stand on my belief that grunge music lose their point once they go mainstream. as of now, visa applications and course registrations will be enough to ruffle my feathers, and i pride myself for never been accused of cheating. this is probably because i don’t cheat– no matter how popular it is to cheat, i never do. not that i have anything against popular people or the likes of them, but because i have a 3.73 GPA that i cannot afford to lose. i like being smart, but somehow develop a love-hate relationship with other people acknowledging it. just because sometimes when they say: “you’re smart.” they’re not saying it, just because–and that is when i learn that not all people are sincere behind their saccharine smiles. i’m a pro at acting stupid just because i am stupid most of the time. and i have never been unsociable given that i don’t have a large group of friends, but i do have friends. i also don’t get anxiety attacks when i’m in a huge crowd. rest assured, i don’t enjoy public speaking, i have bad insecurity issues that i’m not proud of,  but i do enjoy the adrenaline spike when i decide to speak up. i write better than i talk, and i never want to get accused of plagiarism–just because i want to be a writer, and i might as well crap myself if i decide to plagiarize other people’s work. that being said, i’m not always confident on my subjects (i know, what kind of writer am i?). sometimes i do think that my characters are horrendous until i remember that it is my own brain that conjured them up. i’m a romantic and heavily so, and i always think that i’m born in the wrong era. an old soul perhaps, but i doubt that i have an old mind. i like to challenge other people’s ideas, and will most likely get annoyed at people who challenge mine–which comes to show just how immature i am–and that’s where my conscience kick in and force me to act like the adult i’m going to be. i assume almost all the time and whether or not it’s a bad thing, i still don’t know. i am a grammar nazi who makes a lot of grammar mistakes like all. the. time. and this is why i’m a hypocrite who likes to accuse other people of being hypocrites. i’m the most hypocritical hypocrite you’ll ever find in this world, but then again, i find that everyone is a hypocrite. the only difference is the ‘hypocritical level’ on which they stand. i like twist in the tales, but i absolutely abhor depressing stories which seemingly doesn’t have an end to it. i always find it cool that people can skip grades in their schooling history, but if i was given an option to turn back time, i would still choose to go through every single grade just because i would be helplessly immature if i don’t. i don’t go to school dances, and i don’t mind… but just like other girls, i like looking at cute boys. what differs is that other girls date them, i don’t. and not yet, i hope. apart from my academics (of which i take seriously… too seriously perhaps) i live my life carelessly. i’m not scared of getting hurt, which probably explains why i’m not scared of commitment which is ironic since i have been wanting to color my hair so bad but always decide against it since i love my black tresses too much. so much for not being scared of commitment when it’s just hair -_- but here’s my two cents anyway: it might not be the best thing for you to be stupid and reckless, unless you want to (hypothetically. always hypothetically) ride a motorbike on the monstrous roller coaster that is life itself, which may potentially kill your heart and your brain, but which i have come to enjoyed immensely. tough luck, i know. i don’t like to harbor self pity, but i feel for other people, even when they think it’s nothing big, and i feed from other people’s happiness. i don’t like change– can’t say that i hate it– but in one way or another i also hope for change as i believe that the world will die without change, and a dying world… that is what scares me. i can’t say that i’m philosophical, but i’m interested in the actual process of being. i don’t talk about existentialism and the likes, but it’s not because i don’t like said topics, it’s just that i don’t trust myself in talking about them. you will never in a million years hear me justify myself as ‘an awesome person’, because i never feel like i’m material enough to brand myself ‘an awesome person’, and i think that ‘YOLO’ has been overabused  by people who wanted to have a reason to act stupid their whole life, when they know that they only have one. oh, and i’m selfish.

bottom line: i think i’m not ready to be eighteen. i don’t think i ever will.

forever an eight year old.

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