oh-crap-im-almost-an-adult!!

Okay, so let's get one thing straight. I've been using the 'just-a-teenage-girl' card as my get-out-of-jail-free ticket for the better part of my teen years. Late for class? Just a teenage girl who needs her beauty sleep. Room looking like the aftermath of a tornado? Just a teenage girl with an 'artistic temperament'.

However, as the hands of time relentlessly drag me towards the dreaded threshold of adulthood, I find myself quaking in my Doc Martens. Oh the sheer horrors.

First things first, denial seems like a great coping mechanism. I mean, they say age is just a number, right? But my parents have reliably informed me that age, in fact, comes with responsibilities and is not solely for the purpose of upgrading my driving license or getting into rated movies.

Well, I guess I'll have to strategize. Adapt. Overcome. Start talking like a Bear Grylls survivalist, apparently. But seriously, let's explore some options, shall we?

Plan A; Marry a rich man and.. what?

I've been binge-watching way too much crime videos lately, and I may or may not have thought about marrying a super-rich guy and then conveniently 'getting rid of him'. Yes, you read that right. I mean, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to survive in this capitalist society, right? All in the name of self-preservation... and a life of luxury, of course.

Now, hold on! Before you report me to the authorities, let me clarify that this is all hypothetical. This is my desperate mind’s attempt at avoiding adult responsibilities. Trust me, I can barely keep a plant alive (I killed off like two cactuses) , let alone execute a perfect crime. I mean, have you watched Forensic Files? They always get caught. Always.

Besides, just imagine the mess. Me, clumsily trying to navigate a life of high society, rubbing elbows with the CEOs whilst hiding my love for cheap fast food and discount clothing stores, and hiding the fact that I cringe at Elon Musk. Picture me trying to put up with stuffy events when I’d rather be at home, in my pyjamas, watching pirated movies and eating microwaved popcorn. And let's not even talk about the problem of the actual 'getting rid of him' part. Yikes! My apologies to any potential future husbands out there. Rest assured, your lives are safe with me. (Not sure if I'll have one, but just in case..')

Plan B; Run Away and Join the Circus

I'm pretty good at juggling... my school work, sleep schedule, and social life, that is. However, I'm not sure how that translates into juggling balls, flaming torches, or worse, responsibilities!

Plan C: Establishing My Own Country

Now this one's for when the going gets really tough. If all else fails, I might just declare my room a sovereign nation. I mean, it has its own flag (the mess on my floor that vaguely resembles my laundry), a national anthem (my Spotify playlist), and a unique culture (the art of procrastinating and marathoning TV shows).

We'll have our own national holidays, like 'No Homework Day' or 'Ice Cream for Breakfast Day'. And the best part? The rules of the outside world don't apply here. Late for a meeting? You're just abiding by the national custom of 'fashionably late'. Forgot to do your chores? That's alright; in our nation, we believe in natural order, even if it means letting dirty dishes pile up.

Who knows? Maybe I'll find that the adulting life isn't as terrifying as it seems. And until then, don't worry, no rich husbands will be harmed in the survival process. Well, at least not intentionally…But in all seriousness, does anyone know where I can get a 'How to Adult' handbook? Asking for a friend… obviously.

trophy girlfriend - heavenly