I’m Adulting?

Oh adulting, isn’t it just the most amazing thing ever? I remember when I was in high school, so excited to get the fuck out of there, never see half of that cohort again, and then truly experience the real world and all the amazing thing it has to offer.

BOY WAS I IN FOR A SHOCK.

One broken heart, two up-front payments of uni and three jobs later: here I am, truly adulting. And the amazing adulting life? It’s not true. That’s right, it’s a LIE. Don’t listen to what they say on tv and in books, those magical looking places where you get to just do whatever the fuck you want – because it’s not true! Let me tell you the true love story about adulting: taxes, endless work, people who can’t drive on the motorway, and constant rice for dinner. I’m not even going to say ‘the end’ because the list could go on for the rest of my life.

You know how when you’re younger in high school and you’re like ‘why isn’t alcohol legal for people under 18, wah wah wah’? Well, little under 18 year olds, it’s because YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THE LIFE STRUGGLES WE ADULTERS LIVE. You try watching your two brothers marry young and have children while you still struggle to work out how to cook the perfect brown rice (nutritious and delicious). Alcohol is a necessity for survival. Honestly. If I had a list of ‘How to Adult’, alcohol would be at the top.

However, I suppose you’re wondering ‘how is she only adulting now?’, well my little petal pop, I’ll tell you how: I’m moving out. Did you read that right?

I. Am. Moving. Out.

YES! That’s another thing on your little survival pack for adulting: living with parents is free, but it’s just not the same. You see, I have a magical idea of what moving out is going to be like, it goes like this:

I walk around the house, naked. I open the fridge and eat…rice because well, I moved out, I didn’t say I got rich. I’m totally kidding, breakfast is my favourite meal of the day, it’ll be something that the royals would eat. Anyway, I sit on the couch and turn on the tv first thing and my mum isn’t all ‘ELLY DON’T TURN ON THE TV FIRST THING IN THE MORNING’ until I awkwardly turn it off. Then, I look around the place and realise that it is mine. ALL MINE. Well, mine and my roommates. On the off chance I want to throw a party? I’ll throw a god-damn party (probably won’t happen though because… have you met me?). I wanna continue walking around or even making a dance routine naked without my mum bitching at me to put clothes on even though she met me naked? I damn well will. It seems like some incredible bed-time story, right? Whatever. If you don’t see that as life-changing then you’re not a true adulter and need to take another swig of the $3 wine my friend.

So give me a month. I’ll let you know the truth of this short-lived fairy tale once I’m fully moved in, I’m sure the adulting life is going to shit all over that too.

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