I'm not sure anyone ever actually said "30 is the new 20," but if they had (and if it is), 28 would be the new 18. It's an odd idea that I find somehow pertinent.
My 18-year-old self would not recognize the 28-year-old me. And not just because I'm 40 pounds lighter. I'm a more balanced person. I'm not as angry. I'm more philosophical. Less black and white and much more grey.
I'm still quite insecure, but differently so. I have a better grasp of my strengths and weaknesses, and a much better understanding of what I truly want and like (as opposed to what I "should" want and like). I'm more sensitive - to foods, obviously, but also to sounds and noises, smells, crowds, cold, art, controlled substances, and germs. My quirks are more pronounced.
As removed as I am from the person I was at 18, I feel more like a high school senior now than I did when I was one. Ten years ago, I had just graduated several months early, I was working more or less full time, getting ready for college in the Fall. I knew what I would study for four years, where I'd apply to graduate school, where I'd live. I had my life pointed in a direction that I was happy with, and there were few questions (in my mind) about what the future would hold.
These days, not only do I not have a lovely map of the future, I feel like I can't even begin to draw one. More school seems inevitable, but I don't want a(nother) useless degree, and none of the "useful" ones really appeal. The word "career" scares me. After feeling so certain of my life-path, I'm suddenly a grown-up with no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
My 18-year-old self is pissed.
But what the hell does she know, anyway? Eighteen is the new eight.
