Tomorrow, I’ll be 18. I haven’t planned anything. I feel like I haven’t really done anything worthwhile. I also feel like sleeping for an eternity and buying a dog I can’t take care of. Is a quarter-life crisis a thing? Moving on. Or not, as the case may be. Let us reminisce. I missed out on my rebellious stage. I died my hair black at 14 and delved into copious amounts of eyeliner. Fun times, right? On my 16 th birthday I went to a party. That wasn’t for me, but they all sung happy birthday to me so that saved me from becoming a depressed blob. That’s a lie. I didn’t really care. In fact, it was rather exhausting and for most of it I remember really wanting to go to bed. But, I've never gotten fired from a job, or tattooed my skin at much too young an age, or whatever it is rebellious teenagers do. I lacked interest. Still do. It seems sad, like I've missed out on a major life event. Happy birthday to me. You're gonna be an adult. It's scary,