A new semester is coming. I am not ready.

I use to think that since this summer is my LAST summer as a teenager, I should really relish ever single sweet moment of dependence I can.

Adulthood is basically aunts/uncles/grandparents/other relatives asking you:

1. When are you getting a job?

2. When are you getting a boyfriend?

3. When are you buying a “proper” house?

4. Babies.

5. Taxes

6. Career.

7. Babies.

And yet. I took the “I-am-running-out-of-time” mask and decided to hoard everything I could this summer:

1. I got a job job. I mean. NOT internship but a job. Job. With okay pay.

2. I went abroad?? That counts for something right?

3. I’m working on my thesis. It’s group thesis. But still. Thesis.

4. I’m a fourth year student; I don’t need a boyfriend.

Jesus, I don’t even have notebooks yet. Or proper pens (I have 8 pens inside my pencil case but those don’t count okay because that was LAST year.)

This semester is going to kill me.



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