I read stories of women who move out of their parents' home at 18 to start their life proper. They work multiple jobs, support themselves, pay their way through college, get a better job, and lead the life they're proud of. They're independent. And then I look at me. 20 years old. 19 was okay. 19 was still a student getting her diploma. 19 was still the student who worked hard, played gigs, and tutored kids. 19 was still a teenager in school. But 20 is hitting me hard, strangely. 20 is the adult spending her days watching the telly in her room. 20 is the adult with no 9-5 job. 20 is the adult receiving allowance from her parents. 20 is floating through life with no goal, no idea, and it seems I've become afraid to dream. I used to have all these big dreams, so many goals that I was certain I'd reach. But as I grow older, these dreams seem to grow further and further away that they disappear into this room in my mind, sitting on the shelf with my childhood dreams of becoming an astronaut and a fish monger. The room is getting crowded. I've stopped dreaming. I'm just waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Sometimes I get so upset that this is my only chance to be a youth. I have this health, this life, this time on my hands and I could be doing so much more. Could. Money seems to be this rope that pulls me down when I want to do something, but it's also the rope that I have to climb to actually do something. Why am I not overseas working like what I've always wanted? I have no money for rent. Why am I not traveling? I'm busy tutoring, earning the money I need to go. Opportunities are always here. But I always respond the same way. "I'm afraid that..." Afraid of this and that, I never take chances anymore. Safe is boring. Safe gets you no where.
I answer my own questions, I ignore my own answers.
Well, I am still 19 for five months.
20 will be a leap of faith.