Dear age 18,
You know I’m not good with birthdays and you are a particularly daunting one. I’m writing in the hope that you will go easy on me this year, and not thrust every ‘grown up’ responsibility into my lap that being 18 is said to bring; setting up a bank account was hard enough!
Being 18 is society’s way of calling me an adult, despite how immature I feel inside… I still laugh at poop jokes for goodness sake!
Some people tell me that you gave them the best year of their life. They could -legally- consume alcohol, and watch all the horror movies at the cinema. With you we can vote, and go to university too.
Then whats the issue!?
The truth is, I don’t really want you to visit me tomorrow. Not for myself, but for my mother who keeps on crying saying that ‘her youngest baby has grown up’and because you aren’t a real physical being, I feel very responsible for her tears.
One thing is for sure, you must be nicer than 17- He was a real jerk!.
I guess I’ll see you tomorrow 18. If I get drunk, you’re to blame!
All of my -dubious- love
P.S Bring play-doh
P.P.S don’t say I’m too old for play-doh… just bring it.