I’m really not one of those people that gets excited for birthdays. Or for getting older. I mean…I don’t want to drive! I do want to get j
ob…but just a small one. But all in all…I’m not ready to be sixteen!
When I was little, sixteen always seemed so old to me. So in charge, mature, grownup. And I’m certainly not any of those…not that I want to be grownup–that’s what scares me. But I thought I would be less…confused about life at sixteen. Instead I’m more confused.
Well, I’ll just sigh dramatically then. That’s always a good thing to do when writing about TEENAGE ANGST.
But I’ll cherish my youth…once I was thirteen, and that felt…scary. Now it seems nothing…sixteen…I may be getting older, but I’m still going to be as young and immature as I want to.