Real Adults.

Facebook has become a depressing place as of late. Between the wedding plans, baby announcements and party pictures, I've grudgingly come to accept that my friends and I are evolving into real adults at an alarming rate. I'm happy for everyone, don't get me wrong, but I feel like I've missed something. I was 12, 15... and now I'm close to 21. I must have blinked somewhere, though I can't pinpoint it. Does it ever slow down, or will it be a whirlwind until I'm finally sitting in a rocking chair, telling my grandchildren about the year 2012? I've decided that I'm going to do my best to enjoy it as much as possible, even if Father Time won't yield to my demands.

Wrong.

As of today I am 20 years, 5 months and 16 days old. However, I was asked by my brothers friends mother which grade I am in. She was referring to High School, because apparently I didn't look much older than the fourteen year old boys playing with legos a few rooms away. Now, I'm not all that surprised that she couldn't guess my age since most people seem to struggle to do so, though the astonished face when I share my real age is becoming a bit mundane. For almost all of my childhood I looked a good few years older than my classmates, to the point that my mother once had to bring my birth certificate with her to prove to a nasty movie theater attendant that I was, in fact, just nine years old, opposed to "at least fifteen" as she had argued. It seems however my visual appearance has regressed somewhat, seeing as the last time I went to the dentist, one of the very kind nurses asked if I wanted my mom to come hold my hand. I'll have to see what I can do to make myself look my age, because as flattering as it may be later on, right now it's a a giant pain in the ass.