I want to preface this by saying I didn't really intend to write this entry. But it happened anyway. I hope it explains my silence on this blog as of late, and my perhaps lackluster entries. All I ask is for support. I've had enough advice to last me the rest of my life at this moment.


I used to think the difference between an adult and a child was the age. I realize I had that completely wrong.

What makes a woman a woman and a girl a girl? What is that defining difference? What makes someone call you a "ma'am" instead of "miss"? What is that defining thing that lays within our skin?

Is it our physical age? I don't think so. I really don't. It's the energy I think we give off. Aura if that's what you feel like calling it. Probably the simplest term to use.

I always thought I would reach an age and this magical thing would happen.

I would be an adult. A full fledged adult. But what does that mean? What does adult imply? It's so much more than just age. It's maturity, responsibility, wisdom. It's not so much that you stop doing stupid things but that you realize when you're doing it, that it's stupid, and you understand the consequences.

Of course, that's my theory. I'm not exactly an expert on adultness. I'm still not even sure what all it means.

I'll be twenty on Thanksgiving. I've always hated that. When my birthday and Thanksgiving are the same. Loved it when I was little and it happened but now? Now it's a reason for the family to ignore my birthday and excuse me but I'm rather selfish about the one day of the year we get to worship at my feet. Otherwise known as me picking dinner without contest. Same difference.

I haven't been in a really good place lately. Turning twenty is actually freaking me out more than I'd like to admit. Way more than I'd like to admit. It's only twenty. And the moment I say it's "only twenty" is when my mind starts reeling. Twenty. God.

I suppose most people are excited at my age and don't start getting these feelings until they're 25, even 30, maybe even longer.

My corner life crisis.

It really feels like one. I feel stupid now for laughing at all the people that said they were having one. I understand the gut wrenching, heart pounding, intense fear that suddenly overwhelms every sense and function. Even as I write this I feel the tension creeping up my back and tightening up my neck, like octopus tentacles.

What a stupid fear. What a stupid stupid fear. It's 20, just two decades. Every generation is living longer and longer. If I live well there's no reason I couldn't live a very long time. My great grandmother's were both 88 when they died and my grandma is now 75, soon 76, and still quite spry. More energy than most of us kids. My grandma even died once (she was badly sick, revived) and look how old she is now. She hasn't been in good health, yet she's still more alert than people ten years her junior.

Maybe I inherited those genes. That'd be nice. Mom looks good for her age too. Dad looks great for his, even though I think he's in worse health. Damn cigarettes. Damn fireplaces. Damn inhaling spray paint because he won't wear a mask. Damn.

I could live a long time. This is just the beginning. So why am I so terrified? Why is there this deep dark pit in the middle of my soul that I can't wretch out? It's like a sticky spill of tar on a light bulb, slowly oozing down and cutting out the light.

I wish the days were longer. I'm really hating it being dark so much.

Maybe I should go away for a while. I don't know where. It's not like I know anyone who'd take me for a month or so. No one that lives in the kind of place I need to be. Where it's sunny and warm and I don't see as much dead things as I feel inside.

I miss the beach. I miss the ocean. I miss sunburns. I miss sandwiches stolen by seagulls. God I haven't seen the Gulf in years... Over ten. I used to live in the water, on the sand. I never even saw snow until I was four and even then it wasn't sticking to anything. It melted as soon as it hit the ground. Now I'm covered in cold and snow.

I don't think I'm meant for this climate. It does quite a number on me.

Don't tell me I need to talk to someone, I've talked so much about this my voice nearly left me. I've cried so much. I didn't know there were that many tears inside me. I write and write and write. I try and kick up hobbies. I stay out of the house as much as I can.

But how do you get tar off your heart?