I never used to understand why certain people were so secretive about their personal lives. Sometimes I still don’t. I’m a pretty open book. I’m afraid to admit I’m 21, and I’ve never been in a relationship. But not as afraid to admit that I didn’t have my first kiss until I was 20; it was last summer.
People are so judge-y in high school. The popular girls whisper mean things about you in the hallways. “Her thighs look fat. Her hair is frizzy. She’s still a virgin.” But in college, people try to tell you they’re less judge-y, and that so many things that you experience are normal, so it’s okay to voice how you’re feeling. Well I was never really afraid to voice it anyway.
I had a crush on this boy. “Ew, he’s ugly.” My dad gave me some money because I was running low. “Wow, that much?” I have anxiety. “So does everybody else.” Well throw me a fucking bone why don’t you!?
But now I know why everyone keeps to themselves. Because I don’t give a fuck what any of my friends think. They’re my best friends, and even though I care about their opinions, I’ve finally realized that no matter how much I care about their opinions, it’s not going to change my own actions. I’ll do what I want because I want it.
So I’m seeing this boy. It’s a little complicated maybe. But they don’t need to know that. I guess I just told the whole internet, but nobody needs to know the details but me and him. So I’m anxious. About what? Only me and my therapist know. I tell my mom everything; this is the first thing that I haven’t told my mom, and it’s the most liberating thing I’ve ever done.
I don’t think I’m ready to go eat a sit-down dinner by myself, or go into New York City and spend a day by myself, but I do know that I’m ready to stop relying on others’ opinions to make my decisions for me. I’m ready to start being a young adult; a young lady; a young woman.