I have been fifteen for a little under a month now, and I’m already a little sick of it. I think I’m ready to move on. I feel older. But of course the next age in line is sixteen and what’s the point of sixteen if you can’t get a drivers license? Exactly, and I haven’t driven since that pathetic trip around the church parking lot without using the gas the day of my birthday, which certainly doesn’t give me the required forty hours. I was going to ask my dad if he’d give me a driving lesson this weekend, but he’s going to a funeral, and I’ve recently realized that I’m terrified of cars when I’m ‘driving’, and that’s without hitting the gas, people. Sigh. I suppose I just want to be older because I’m in college and am sick of all the questions that I get from people that didn’t graduate from high school at fourteen (a.k.a everyone I know). But then I realize I’m letting virtual strangers alter the way I feel about my age and that’s not quite right. Thanks, I needed this.P.S. If you are a first time reader, welcome! I promise I’m not usually this emo. It’s been a weird day. Here, I drew you a picture:
Better? No? You are really hard to please.