I don’t know how it happened, or when. All I remember is waking up one day and realizing that I wasn’t 17 anymore.
I no longer lived with my mom and little brother in a small, but cozy apartment that I oh so despised.
I was no longer the girlfriend of a rude, but ultimately kind hearted, hopeless romantic boy that thought that it was the world that needed to change, not him.
I remembered that it really wasn’t “just yesterday”, when my best friend and I stole my mom’s car for the night, thinking that the boy I had a crush on would think I was cool if I came driving by his house in a beautiful, blue Corolla.
Gone were the days of ditching French class and flirting with my ex out in the school hallway.
Nights were spent wandering the streets with my best friend at 1am, doing things that we probably shouldn’t have been and were VERY lucky we never got caught.
So many wonderful, but also miserable, nights as well..
Countless hours were spent screaming back and forth with him because he had decided to be an ass again.
Days when I ate so much, my stomach could no longer bare it and I made myself give it all up to the toilet. Again. And again. And again.
When I cried to my therapist about how confused I was about love and life and just about every little thing that was happening to me at the time.
Oh, how I miss those nights of talking to my best friend for 6 hours on the phone, never a pause in-between words.
The giggling, the music, the late night driving, and the long conversations about boys, bad experiences, and things we would never, ever tell another soul.
The fights. The laughter. The love and rebellion. The dreams and the heartbreak. The confusion and the deep sadness. The happiness I felt, no matter how bad it all got.
How I miss those days, I thought I had almost forgotten them.
Now I’m almost 22 years old, and life has passed me by. So much has changed, yet not nearly as much as I’d hoped. And I promise I am not dwelling over the past, for what a waste that would be. No matter how much one reminisces about the past, it has already happened. There’s no going back.
Life is always changing, people are always moving and they never stop to take in just how fast time is going by. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve lived a lifetime, and other times I feel like there’s never enough time in the day.
I notice how quickly the days turn into nights. How one conversation can turn into another, and other people don’t seem to notice the difference. But I feel it. I see it. And it almost scares me to death, because I feel as if I’m not spending each passing moment to my fullest capacity. I was 17 years old yesterday, and now I’m 21 today. Before anyone blinks an eye, I will be 50 years old. Then 55. And then 73.
And then, someday… I’m going to have run out of time. I’ll be curled up in my death bed, looking back at all of the memories and wondering where those days had gone, and if I had spent my life the way I wanted to.
I don’t want to have regrets. I’m going to make stupid decision’s, that is true. But as long as at that very moment, that’s exactly what I wanted to do, and it made me happy, then it’s okay. What is the point of having a life, if you are not living it happily? Why spend your days wondering why the days seem to keep dragging on and wishing for a better day to come? I refuse to waste my days longing for something better.
I choose to be happy today. I choose to live. What do you choose?