Lately I'm having trouble accepting my position in life. It's hard to have to depend on other people to make all the money, and let you life at their house. I keep saying that I'm ready to get to the next step. I'm ready to have my own house, and have (sorry Mary) a real adult job. I'm ready to be a strong contributor to our bank account. I'm ready to have a baby of my own, and stop ogling friend's babies. I'm ready to have a whole new set of worries.
But then I remember that I'm 23. I will never again be 23. This is the time for me to enjoy my easy job that gets me home by 1:30 P.M. A time for me to go out with my sexy husband and have a good time, not caring if we get home at 4 A.M. A time for me to be able to spend money on lavish vacations, because I don't have a mortgage to worry about. A time to buy the iphone that I want, because I don't have to worry about groceries or electricity.
When the time comes for me to officially grow up, I'll be happy to do it, but for now... I'm going to love the life I have.