When I started writing for the Odyssey, I was told to open up a Facebook account so I could expand my audience through the most used social media platform in the world. Being a good employee, I obliged and opened a Facebook account right away. Curiously, when I entered in my email to create my account, I was told there was already an existing account associated with my email. I got nervous, jumping to the conclusion that someone had been using my good name to do unspeakable things on the internet, but the reality was much worse.

My Facebook account from middle school.

AHH! THE HORROR! Bad edits on Piknik! TBH wall posts!! Low quality selfies from the webcam!!! It was as if thirteen-year old me knew exactly what would make eighteen-year old me tick and decided to create a nightmare landscape. I thought it couldn't get any worse, but I was sorely mistaken.

My account had not been updated since 2012, the year I started high school, so my friends list was a bit outdated, as I had moved twice since my last log in. I scrolled through my friends list and saw faces and names that I had not thought of in years, people I'd known as a child, but they all looked vastly different from how I remembered them. They had all grown up. Most were going to or already in college, some were backpacking around the world, doing typical young adult stuff. I was proud of them, all of these past friends being successful filled me with joy at the sight of their accomplishments. But the next thing I saw made my stomach do so many flips, it should've gone to Rio.

Scrolling down my timeline, I noticed a name that was unfamiliar. Let's call this person Betty. Betty's first name was common enough, maybe I'd known her in middle school, not a close friend but an acquaintance. Her last name looked strange, different than what I thought it was. Attached to her name was a photo album. There was a woman in a white dress kissing a man in a tuxedo in front of a priest. I thought "She went to a wedding! How nice!"

Then it hit me.

She did not simply attend the wedding.

SHE WAS THE ONE GETTING MARRIED.

Reality punched me in the face. I screamed. I laid down on the floor and began to fall into an existential crisis. I proceeded to go through Kübler-Ross's five stage of grief, like so.

Stage 1- Denial: She can't be getting married, she's so young! Maybe it's not who I think it is, maybe it's someone who just looks like her and has the same name as her and went to the same school as I did. Anything is possible.

Stage 2 - Anger: How can she do this? She's too young to be getting married! She's ruining her life! Why am I so angry at something that doesn't affect me in the slightest?!

Stage 3-Bargaining: Maybe she had to get married because she's pregnant? OH GOD THAT'S WORSE.

Stage 4-Depression: People my age are getting married and I'm sitting here in my Snow White pajamas, eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch at 3 in the afternoon. I will never find love, the world is cold, and I am sad.

Stage 5- Acceptance: If Betty wants to get married, let Betty do Betty and let me do me. BUT SHE'S STILL TOO YOUNG.

I don't mean to offend to Betty or her decisions, but it is quite jarring to see someone who just got out of high school committing themselves to living the rest of their lives with one person. These kids are still in the formative years of their lives, their minds are still being molded. The Betty that married that boy is not going to be the same Betty five years from now, and it won't be the same boy. Although I wish them both the best, I wish even more that they had waited a little longer to grow up, not just for their eighteenth birthdays.

I'm lucky to have had a great childhood with no need to grow up quickly, a luxury I understand is not available to everyone, but even those who did have a similar childhood seem in a rush to grow up too fast. What made those people feel so restricted? Is it the way adulthood is perceived in the media, as a pathway to freedom? Or does it have to do with education? Most students receive an education that does not prepare them in the ways of the practical world, such as abstinence-only sexual education, a topic to which I could dedicate its own article. Children are seen as small, adults as big, and we've been taught bigger is better, but why can't we enjoy the luxuries that come with being small?

There is no magic in the number 18. No fairy godmother arrived at the stroke of midnight to make me an Adult. I didn't suddenly know how to file a tax return or pay my car insurance. I woke up the morning of my eighteenth birthday the same way I'd woken up everyday for the past eighteen years: grumpy, in dire need of a honey butter chicken biscuit, and with absolutely no desire to grow up. I don't feel like an adult and I don't think I will for a long time, but for now I am going to enjoy the little bit of childhood I have left.

Readers, I leave you with one final plea. Parents, please hug your children. They'll probably be annoyed by it but remind them that they are still kids and there's no need to rush growing up. Young folk, enjoy being young! Eat ice cream at midnight! Watch Disney movies all day! Run around in the rain! And most of all,

STOP

GETTING

MARRIED.

Thank you. :)