I’m an 18 year old girl— also young, dumb, and broke. (You get it.) It’s the age to soar, to do stupid things, and to learn from all kinds of mistakes that are inevitable. But don’t forget, it’s also a time to dream. It’s a time when we’re little balls of raw and volatile energy, adamant to conquer the world, with spears and machine guns in hand.
Fearless and ignorant at the same time. We love and fall hard.
YOLO, right? Ahhh, how good it is to be young and bold at the same time.
We make vows and promises under the starry night sky, bottle all our feelings up and screw it on tight, burying it deep within our souls, determined to never forget, that we were once young, too.
YOUR NAME!!! ( Go watch it if you haven’t ,PLS, Masterpieces are there to make your life meaningful)
We dream, working our asses off to follow the voices deep within us, hoping that we can achieve all of them some day. (No matter how absurd they might seem to be)
But if you ask me: When it comes to studying and deciding a career, I have no idea of what I want to do in the future, alright?
What I DO know is that I want to be happy even when I’m 60 years old. I want to be able to say this when I reach that ripe old age:
“I don’t regret a damn thing about what I chose when I was younger. Who cares if I make the ‘wrong’ decision? At least I did my best to pursue my dreams. And most importantly, I’m damn happy that I can even make it this far in life now.”
60 years later, you might even see me on the streets, with a guitar in hand, singing to a small crowd. I may not have all the riches of this world — maybe even nothing — but my smile would be as just as bright as when I was 18 years old.