Yes, I know we're constantly growing, and that even if we're seventy with saggy boobs and wrinkly butts we will continuously grow up until we're gone. But right now, this sort of growing up I'm going through is kind of different, it's the only kind I'm living really, but it's pretty fun. You know, when you no longer need your parents to drive you everywhere, and when you have a fully dominating grip-ok maybe not that dominating- over your life choices, it kind of sugarcoats the whole process.         

       Unfortunately though, I got to realise that the fun part of it doesn't exempt you from one atrocious revelation, though it may last and agitate your whole being in what is barely even a split second. You just cannot fucking pinpoint when and where everything went, not wrong, but not the way it always used to go. 

       On which day exactly along this long, yet very short, forgotten year did all of this come into being? And you vividly remember how, just a year ago, on this exact same day, you sat there, surrounded by people and faces and conversations that immensely differ from all that is happening right now. 

    And not in your faintest ideas would you have imagined that you'd make it where you are right now. 

     I'm not stating that the time it took to get where I am was long or effortful. I did not feel a single thing, everything just happened on its own. And it's not that I'm not happy with how they did take place and how things have, well, changed (dammit, I tried so hard not to use it). I'm very happy, and a bit surprised. 

It's just that this single, horrifyingly tedious moment that reigns over you is so fucking overwhelming. It's awful. 

"Oh my God. How did I get here...When did I get here?"

And then it just...well, it just goes away.