Honestly.

Sometimes, I wish I could pack up my things, cram them into the tiny trunk of my Saturn, and drive off.

Like I would do for a sleepover, or for a weekend getaway.

Except, I wouldn't come back.

Where I'd end up would be where I was meant to be.

So, I'd stay there. I'd get a job at a coffee shop that plays sweet indie music, and I'd get to know all the locals.

I'd rent a crappy, cheap apartment, and smuggle an over sized dog in.

And well, that's where it stops.

I would only go to college if I wanted to.

I'd send my mom and brothers cupcakes and cards.

Prince Charming wouldn't show up on a white horse.

And he wouldn't buy me teddy bears and chocolate and roses.

Or rub my feet after a long exhausting day serving coffee.

But, he would let me cry and he would let me be my own person and form my own opinions, because he would know I absolutely hate it when people try to push their ideals and beliefs on me.

And when they try to do that, and tell me I'm wrong for feeling something, we'd look at each other and laugh(he'd laugh-I'd grimace) and that would make me feel better.

I've since learned that believing fairy tale is a marriage is dillusional, and yeah, I still believe that flubbery about one man holding the key to my heart, but I've got to make a lot of mistakes before he comes along.

He's not perfect. I'm not perfect.

So, I'm raising my coke can to growing up, and realizing that life will never be perfect. Or easy. Not now, not when I'm done with college, not when I'm married, not even when I'm old, if I am ever old. Never.

I think I'm cool with that.