In the psychological sense of the word, I never really made the transition to womanhood. Seeing myself as a grown-up when I still feel like a girl seems to me a lot like a kid trying on her mother’s stilletos and clumsily stumbling around in them while trying to act adult-like. It’s one of two things: Either I didn’t know when to make the jump and missed the boat when it came along, or I still cannot accept the fact that I am no longer 16, but 27. Plenty of years of womanhood lie ahead of me, while fraught with the responsibilities of a real job and kids I am not. Yet, I still feel myself as too young to handle some of the situations I do. I question myself, “Am I old enough to make these decisions?” Chronologically, I am. But, the kid in me is not. Some tell me I am incredibly mature for my age (Ha! Tell that to my mother!).

I suppose I can be a grown-up. When faced with an issue or the responsibility of making a decision, I must probably enter some kind of temporal fugue, unconsciously handle the task/problem, snap out of it, and feel 16 again. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to feel young and yet have the capability to arrive at the seemingly reasonable decision.

Earlier, I was an overachiever. Now, I am an overanalyzer. Soon, I will be over the hill. And yet, forever 16.