Last night was a wonderfully brisk night for a walk. Descending from the same father, my sister and I really enjoy our late night walks as he did. I was graced with the gift of time last night when my sister suggested a good walk so I obviously could not turn it down.
My sister was the problem child growing up. Because of this circumstance she always has advice to give for every opportunity of life. As we walked in the cold underneath the stars I told her of my plans to move out of my parents' house. I had a friend in my speech class at Ball State who asked me to be her 4th roommate; all the balls seem to be in my court. I get the entire basement to myself, my own vintage refrigerator, table and chairs, and bathroom. Such a tiny bathroom, but has a huuuuuuge shower!... hmmm.
Good Ol' Sis proceeds to talk me out of moving. She said that staying at home with my parents to save money was a much better idea. Don't get me wrong. I save money like crazy and enjoy knowing that, if an emergency would present itself, I will have money to fall back on. However, I feel like I need to grow up.
I am 18 years old. I'll be 19 in four days. I will not argue with someone in saying the I am still young and very much a child. I agree with this one hundred percent. I just feel that life is scary enough so I might as well jump right into the responsibilities while I'm still young. Every time I get apprehensive about trying new things or taking risks, I always picture myself on my death bed. I know, weird, right? I picture myself as a fragile old woman; arthritus has taken over my body, skin along with my tattoos are sagging, loved ones have come to say goodbye and I am left awaiting my last breath. I ask myself: what do I wish I would have done differently? What would I do if I had more time? What would I say to the people I love? Will I be satisfied in knowing that I never went into debt and led a safe life or will I wish that I had lived my life, loved without holding back, and enjoyed every second of it?