18.

Being 18 has really taken a toll on me emotionally.

But, it's not bad. It's just overwhelming sometimes.

I've seen how I've grown up through the papers I've saved, the pictures I've drawn, or even the toys I've stored away. As I clean my rooms (the one at dad's, and mom's) I run into things I forgot I had, or things I forgot I had interest in.

It's weird looking at this stuff. I'm 18 now. I'm an adult. I am no longer a child.

Still a teenager, but a teenager with adult status.

My future is ahead; my jobs, college, marriage, kids, and the list goes on. It's weird to be able to touch it now. It's tangible. I'm able to mold it. To hold it. To do with it what I want.

I've gotten emotional looking at things I used to love, or even play with as a kid. Looking at pictures has been weird too. I see a little child, and it's hard to believe that I'm not one anymore. It's just surreal to me; as it should be.

How time flys when you're having fun.. and how it stops when tragedy arises.

Life is crazy.