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Emma Sue

United States

Aspiring journalist and author. Always looking for critique and friendships.

Message to Readers

Just an adult and a millennial. Wanting to tie the end back around to the baby bird metaphor at the beginning. Also hoping to give better examples of how generations differ. Here is the skeleton of my 18 years. Please, give some feedback and hopefully I can give the story some meat and muscle.

Eighteen

April 10, 2016

PROMPT: [Insert Age]

1
The candles on the cake are beginning to become too many. Suddenly you are 18 and the world says that you are ready to jump out of that nest and fall down, down, down until you have figured out how to fly. For some it is easy, for others, they never lift a wing. Through my experience I had lived through much and yet know little. My feathers are ruffled ready to soar, but I am standing on the edge digging my tiny talons into the sticks and brush I call home.

In my 18 years I have traveled across the states many times and gone over seas only once. Over five years ago I found the man whose last name I want to call my own and six years before that I became an aunt. I have had three jobs, never fired or quit, and faced anxiety face to face a way most will never know. I have written a novel, yet to be published, and begun my first year at college. I have rivers of knowledge and have helped person after person through pain. I try my hardest to make people smile and when I can not I always find a way. So, how is it then that I feel so helpless?

Suddenly, I am unstable. I am not yet an independent, but I am living on my own at a university buying food, going to class, and working a job. The dormitory is so temporary; nonetheless, the parents house feels a little less welcoming. I am walking myself to the bank to talk credit and making grocery lists that attempt to fit my budget. I have not mastered government or statistics, yet I can help people though breakups they never thought would happen, hug a person who got too close to roophies, be the first sight for a friend coming out of a closet, and love one man through all his imperfections as he loves me through mine. 

In a world that tells me to pay my bills and buy my own place they still stereotype me as a teenager lost and unaware. Millennials. Narcissistic? Lazy? Try calling me that again when I have to work to pay off a college tuition that hikes up every year and has already doubled that of generations before me. Try calling me that again when this field of journalism I want to be in forces me to upload long, trendy, precise, correct articles moments after the event has happened. Try calling me that again when you have put yourself in my shoes and walked the miles I run everyday trying to fit those outfits of mascara and 0" waistlines social media calls models. Try calling me that again when my friends do not come back from those wars we are fighting in. Say no more because your generations were so different that when your mouth opens I only smell mothballs, cheap gas, and see a dictionary with word after word missing.

Despite this anger, this "laziness", I still wake up with a smile on my face and an energy in my heart. Despite those harsh words, my family remains without divorce or abuse. My heart remains true to one man and my mind stays true to all my goals. I have a vision for my future and still a strong will to enjoy the present. I have faith in my religion and hold friendships close. Despite everything the world has thrown at me, I have not gone off any deep end or live in my parents basement. I have heard gen x after baby boomer tell me I am ruining their country, yet here I am getting a college education, devoting myself to family, working young, arriving to all events early, dedicating my efforts to all I do, and still finding time to have fun and stay creative. I am eighteen and have lived years beyond it by listening with open ears and watching through open eyes.  
   

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  • April 10, 2016 - 10:14pm (Now Viewing)

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