There are some days where I feel especially adult: when I go to the bank to pay my internet bill, hand in a paper to one prof and run into another on the way out of the building, or go preview a perspective apartment with my boyfriend for next year. Sometimes it feels like I’m a four year old walking around in her mother’s high heels, trying on the role of mature adult for an hour or two. When the heels come off, I’m back to being an adult only in name. I turn twenty years old this summer; I am moving in with my boyfriend this fall; I’m going to the opera tomorrow; I have an apple crisp in the oven right now and I can wear high heels and lipstick whenever I want without looking out of place (just very tall and lanky). I don’t feel like an adult, but yet I am one. The facts and events of my life wash over me and I am overtaken by how fast time really goes. Didn’t I just graduate from high school? Adult responsibilities breath down my neck when I have two more years of university left. I just want to sit, breath and watch the world, I’ll be an adult later.