Twenty-freakin-three.

It has come to my attention that I turn 23 in 10 days. I've been told, my age rounded up to "mid-twenties", as opposed to the now "early-twenties" which sounds like so much fun, carefree! And young. I remember, when I was in high school, people in their twenties seemed ancient! "He's really really old. Oh, like 23." This mid-twenties idea is uncomfortable to me, mostly because I'm not prepared! (I may have a bit of a Peter Pan complex too.) 

I still slip into mum and dad's bed when I'm scared.
I waste too much time on youtube.
I still don’t prime before painting my face.
"Anti-aging" isn't yet part of my beauty regime.
I only have one savings account, that sometimes hits minus.
I still want to marry Simba, the lion king. He's so handsome!
I still jump on beds.
I'm more concerned about Mufasa's death and Pottermore emails than paying bills and cleaning my room.
I'm flakey.
I'm messy, almost sloppy actually.
I'm sleepy.
I like bed.

I have just a few days to get focused. I need to prepare. I need to vacuum more often and dust the dresser table and wash my sheets. I should get another towel and regularly brush my hair. I should also learn to cook something that requires a vegetable. Those are the keys to adulthood.

I am ready for this challenge. Twenty-three, come at me, bro!

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