I woke up this morning at 6:40. I had about six hours of sleep, and my alarm was originally set for 6:30. It doesn’t seem like much, but the extra 10 minutes felt amazing to me.

But I’m not an adult.

Khaleesi and I went outside and took care of business, then we began our typical morning routine. In 20 minutes I was ready to leave and she was settled in her kennel.

At 7:04 a.m., I was walking out of the door.

But I’m not an adult.

I drove about two minutes to the gym around the corner and spent some time de-stressing before the long day ahead of me. It opened at 7 this morning, and I knew it was the only chance I’d have to go. Three other people were there at the same time, so it was a nice and quiet run. After a mile and a half on the treadmill I had to leave.

At 7:42, I left the gym.

But I’m not an adult.

My phone said 7:54 as I walked into the restaurant I spend most of my mornings at. The clock on the wall punched 7:57 into my time-card, and I settled into the kitchen atmosphere. I was scheduled for a six-hour shift full of money, food, cleaning and greeting.

But I’m not an adult.

Today was one of the busiest days I have ever worked. From 8:30 to 1:30, people didn't stop coming and going. I greeted people and sat them at tables -- put tables together, cleared and wiped them off, taken them apart. I kept track of the servers’ tips, cashed guests’ checks, taken calls and take-out orders. I rolled silverware and listened to grumblings for five-and-a-half hours, then was asked by my boss to stay an hour later than planned.

But I’m not an adult.

At 3:02 p.m. I finally went home. My feet were throbbing and all I wanted was to sit down. I noticed then that my car was low on gas, and I sifted through my wallet to see if I had any cash on me. It was just another thing to put on my to-do list.

I arrived to find Khaleesi waiting for me at the door. Her dopey, doggy smile made me remember to be grateful for my busy life as is.

But I’m not an adult.

At 5:18 p.m. I was sitting in the Cracker Barrel break room waiting for my shift to begin. During the two hours I was home I changed into a skirt with tights, a button-down shirt, and an apron with two stars and my name on it. There was no trace of the exhausted restaurant worker who sat on the couch and fell asleep for 30 minutes, ending up with an attractive pillow mark on her face.

I looked prim and proper, well dressed and professional.

But I’m not an adult.

By 5:37 p.m., I had begun my retail duties. Printing out reports and restocking while checking on conversion and sales goals were part of the normal routine.

But as I heard a frantic coworker over the radio ask for a manager, I hurried out of the stock room to see what had happened. Around 5:40 I was standing in the front of the guest shop waiting for an ambulance. A coworker had a seizure, and I was responsible for keeping a clear path from the front doors to the registers. During this time I still had to greet guests and try to be available if they needed anything.

But I’m not an adult.

At 9 in the evening, I finally left my second job. The night was absolutely beautiful so I took the opportunity to relax with friends. I stopped by a fast food place and picked up dinner for myself, then drove to their home. It was difficult for me to keep my eyes open the whole time, and I discovered that even the cool night air wasn’t helping my exhaustion.

But I'm not an adult.

I left my friends’ company around 10:30 because I was falling asleep. When I arrived home about 15 minutes later, I still had to take care of a few things. Making sure Khaleesi had eaten enough, that she didn’t need to go outside, and putting away laundry were just the beginning of what needed to be done. By the time I finally laid my head on the pillow it was past 11:30.

But I am still. Not an adult.

My day started at 6:40 a.m. and ended at 11:30 p.m. -- about 17 hours in length. The amount of responsibilities I have in a single day may not be as many as some, but it still takes a toll. At the end of it all, I am tired, and it is difficult for me to stay motivated sometimes. Even so, I am happy with my life and the little routines I've developed.

So, you may ask. Why am I not an adult?

I am 19 years old, a full-time college student who lives away from her parents, an owner of a beautiful dog, a car, and a worker of two jobs.

And now, I ask you. Why am I not an adult?

I was told by someone a few weeks ago that “When I entered the adult world I would understand." Ever since then, I began to mull over her words. And what kept hitting home was that to her, I was not an adult.

Why?

I documented a day of my life. From the gym to two jobs, from being home to running errands. There was nothing childish about anything in my day, except maybe my sense of humor. If someone older had experienced what I had, would they still be considered young? Not an adult?

So. I ask that you do not judge someone by their age, or their apparent life situation. You do not know the responsibilities or the worries they have on their shoulders. Who they are and what they go through is something you can never understand. While it may be cliché, the old saying “Walk a mile in my shoes” still rings true.

Do not belittle someone because of their age.

Do not throw words like “childish” and “immature” at people who have lives you know nothing about.

I am a young adult, yes. But I, as well as everyone else my age, no matter their life situation, deserve the same respect as other adults.

Because I am an adult.