Eighteen years of family,

Eighteen years of experience on Mother Earth, 

Eighteen years of memories,

And eighteen years of emotions and feelings.

Dare I say—uncoincidentally—I miss the light of not being an adult.

Oh, so soon I loathe; I want the old ways back,

We humans so greedy,

Once we receive something, we can still never be satisfied with our cravings from the world,

Time has granted us aging and yet we miss when we were virgins to everything.

When I was a young child, I remember thinking I’d be unstoppable when I turned eighteen; 

I would finally be a free, independent, and happy adult,

But no, I feel as though nothing has evolved,

In fact, it might be because we are in unknown and hard times.

There I go,

making up for my shortcomings with excuses. 

It might be because of the variety of problems the world has tossed my way.

So, I evolved in a different way:

My relationship with my family and friends evolved,

My relationship with the world has evolved, 

So happy eighteen years on Mother Earth, I say!