Apparently the Word "Angst" Only Exists With the Modifier "Teenage" In Front of It

I fail at being sixteen again.

Just like I predicted, 9:30 pm last night found me changing out of my sweats, deciding I definitely could rock the not-brushing-my-hair look again, and waiting to be picked up by a friend so we could spend the night at Coffee Rush, 2 grocery stores, and driving around in the rain listening to J.R. Cash.

That makes two nights in a row that I valiantly tried to stay in bed staring at the ceiling listening to depressing music. And that makes two nights in a row that I failed.

Maybe it is something programmed into the DNA of moody teenagers that real adults {ha!} just don't have the mental or emotional capacity to do. Not on a regular basis, anyway. Not when the "problem" ain't really that big of a problem.

The funny thing is, apparently I knew this was coming. Senior year of high school my English teacher assigned a paper requiring me to define what my name as a verb would mean. I chose the verb to be "karaed." And after an entire single spaced page of rambling what it meant to be "karaed" the second to last paragraph said this:

To be karaed is to be almost 18 and to wake up every day wondering how much longer you will have the luxury of drowning yourself in blissful teenage self-absorption, to contain the kind of egotism that could allow you to go on for pages about yourself.

{So dramatic! So heavy-handed! So hormonally imbalanced!}

Well, I was half right anyway. I can, and do, still go one for pages about myself, but it appears I no longer have the luxury of lying around and throwing myself the ultimate pity party on Friday & Saturday night.

It's kind of a relief, and it's kind of sad.