Tomorrow, I will be an adult. To put it mildly; frigging HELL.

For a long time now, ever since last year, I've been saying that I'm freaking out about turning eighteen. And it was true, to a certain extent.

But, just now, I actually said it to myself. Tomorrow, I will be able to say, 'I am eighteen years old.'

And, for the first time, my stomach gave a huge lurch and I felt absolutely astounded by something that I've known for months, and years before this point. Now that it's imminent, it's...well, is it scaring me? I can't really tell.

I know that, tomorrow, I won't wake up feeling any different. The only things that will change will be official facts, records, rights and so on; things that I can't see. Yet, the roundness of the number, the status of it, the weird finality of it, despite the fact I'll be beginning a whole new life relatively soon; it shakes me up. In a good way, I think.

This will be my last birthday at home, and at school; this time next year (ack, I'll be nineteen! Jesus Christ), I'll be living in a whole new place, with entirely new people, celebrating, probably, in an entirely new way. I'll have different habits and friends and living space (and, I expect, hobbies). It's that thought, I think, which is weighing on my mind so much, and the thought which must weigh on a million minds that are the same age as me.

A new life. Not entirely seperate from the one I have now, but pretty damn different. I can't wait, of course I can't wait. But I have an urge to embrace my eighteenth birthday while I can, because by next year, everything that I'm used to will have been uprooted. No, actually, not uprooted, because that implies that it's being forced away from me against my will. Altered, maybe. Shifted away from the norm. Whatever it is, or will be, it'll be different.

I don't feel like an adult; not yet. I shouldn't, really; I'm still dependent on my parents for a huge amount, and even when I start uni I won't be fully capable of forging my own way financially. Wish I could, but practically, it's not possible. Unless we win the lottery.

Yet, tomorrow, while I'm (hopefully) having fun and larking around, I'll be aware of the odd knowledge that, in every official capacity, I'm an adult. I can drink, vote, have a child, get married (bloody hell), buy what I want, etc, etc. Obviously, I'm unlikely to leap on these opportunities just because they're suddenly available (you won't catch me getting married, for instance; nor binge drinking or buying cigarettes), but it strikes me as ridiculous that I'll be an adult. A grown-up.

Yep, there was that stomach leap again. Sleeping tonight is going to be a prolonged experience; I can tell.

ANYWAY. I shouldn't waste time feeling scared by the natural progression of time. Tomorrow should be fun; providing the nice weather holds out, we'll all be venturing out onto the field at lunchtime for a birthday picnic. My friend Ben's promised to make a cake (with no prompting or expectations from me at all - he's lovely!), and later on, I'll join most of Year thirteen for an impromptu dance-off at our local shopping centre. Long story; don't ask. I'll tell tomorrow, if it works out!

Right, have to go. Will definitely post about birthday-times.

Back when I'm an adult!