turning 22 has probably never hit me harder than the last two days. much unlike the turning of 21 has not in any way affected me, monday holds a sense of inexplicable sense of impending doom. probably because at this point i realize it's now or never that i actually grow the hell up.
like i told the boyfr a few days ago, paying for shit doesn't make you a grown up, it just means, in all likeliness, you're probably a kid that happens to be paying for shit. while of course, there's the factor of being coerced to be considered, but if there's anything i've learned from moving out at the tender age of eighteen, it's that acceptance and mere tolerance are two very different things.
fortunately for me, lots of good things have been happening, so that kind of takes the edge off things. apart from the amazing crib, incredible bed-mate, cool landlord (there, cheng.), delightful job which comes with the money and colleagues, there's really nothing more a girl could ask for at this point.
with that in mind, i'd like to confess that much as i'd like to think that i'm all grown up and have no time to indulge in childish escapades of drunken stupors, it has come to my attention that no amount of denial will ever feel as good as hanging out with a select few awesome people, letting your hair down and getting drunk off your tits. simply put, that's pretty much how i'd like to celebrate successfully making it to my 22nd year of life alive.
to many more years of debauchery, friends.
