I turned twenty years old at 7:05 this morning.

I slept through turning a year older.

The reality of it hasn't quite sunk in just yet.

I don't feel another year older.

But I am.

I don't feel like I'm not a teenager anymore.

But I'm not.

I've gotten tons of e-mails all day from various people and sites,

All of them wishing me a happy twentieth birthday.

It just doesn't seem real.

There's this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that's telling me I really have left my childhood behind.

I don't like it.

I don't like it at all.

Now begins a decade of self discovery,

In which I'll get to know myself better.

At least, that's what everyone keeps telling me.

They're lying, you know.

From twenty to thirty is a decade of trying to change who you've been your entire life so that you'll fit in with everyone else’s ideals about what it is to be an adult.

I refuse to change.

I know that everyone says that,

And that they change without realizing it.

Will I change without knowing it too?

Will I abandon my youthful ideals and dreams in favor of practicality and responsibility?

I'm afraid that I might.

I'm afraid old age will sneak up on me.

Not old age in the sense of years,

but old age in the sense that I'll think I'm cool when I'm not.

That I'll think I'm in on all the latest trends and I won't be.

That I'll change the way I look at people because society will effect the way I look at the world around me.

From twenty to thirty is a period of uncertainty and possibly disasterous decisions which will change the course of your entire life.

Taking one wrong fork in the road will make all the difference between happiness and misery.

There are going to be a lot of forks in the road.

I'm scared I'll take a wrong one and end up with regrets.

I don't like having regrets.

I'm not ready for this yet.

I know I should be ready.

I know I'm being immature.

I'm just not ready yet.

Does the fact that I'm worrying about this now instead of ten years from now make me wiser than most people my age?

Or more paranoid?

Do I care?

No.

I don't.

I'm just scared.

I don't want to admit it.

But I'm scared of what my future holds.

Or what it doesn't.