Someone must have spiked my drink the night I registered for my classes. Someone must have spiked my drink the night I agreed to work for The Collegian. Someone must have spiked my drink the night I told my fiancé I would support his decision to work sixteen-hour shifts. I must have also been drugged when joining honors groups, deciding to work out four days a week, cutting naps out of my schedule, willingly cutting down time with my fiancé to do school work and agreeing to have class at nine in the morning, every morning.

Now, I love being busy and involved- it’s pretty much the only way I would have it. But I was appalled the other day when I caught myself thinking about how easy life will be once I’m out of college and only working.

I’m the girl who wants to stay in college forever. I don’t want to grow up and be super duper responsible. I’m Peter Pan and I shall stay young forever. I have told numerous people that I could stay a junior at AU for a good four more years before finally deciding it was time to graduate and take the next step. Sadly, I think my Peter Pan days are limited, because while I still want to be in college and am definitely grateful for one more year, I have indeed begun having good thoughts about graduating, as opposed to having resistant thoughts about it.

Seriously, paying bills, working at least 40 hours a week and filing taxes without my dad’s help (yes, my daddy does my taxes) doesn’t sound necessarily appealing, especially when you have a dad like mine, who is very fond of saying, “well, that’s life” or “welcome to the real world” or “you will be doing that the rest of your life” or “good luck with that” or any other encouraging, nurturing phrase you can think of. But when I finally get a chance to breathe on a Saturday afternoon, I am amazed/horrified at how I stumble through a weekday – and when I say stumble I mean it, half the time I am not awake, doing everything wrong or simply accidentally doing something right.

Right now, I do school and work. I share washers and dryers with 20 other girls. I don’t have a dishwasher. I can’t live with my fiancé because this school is a prison when it comes to living arrangements. I only see my fiancé Thursday through Saturday because he works and has classes the rest of the time. I’m in debt. I’m trying to plan a wedding. I’m trying to land internships and jobs. I’m 21 years old and obeying other people’s rules about how I can live.

So suddenly, the thought crosses my mind. How bad would it be to simply wake up, work 9 to 5, come home to my own home, with my own appliances and actually be living with the man I’m married to?

Psh – I could handle that. Shoot college, I must be growing up for real, because suddenly I feel held back.

I’m not some bratty 18-year-old screaming “I’m an adult now!” to her parents. I’m actually a legit adult, whether I want to be or not. The book ended before you could discover the true end to the story.

Peter Pan grew up, didn’t you know?