25.

About a month ago, I turned 25.

The number made me feel...indifferent, confused, bittersweet and anxious. I feel like I have a lot of questions to ask this number, and so far, the answers have yet to reveal themselves to me. When I tell different people I turned 25, I have noticed that I get a different reaction from each, "Oh my gosh, you are still so young!" - a co-worker in her 60's, "Ew you're getting old" - my 22 year old sister", "So, dating anyone? I just heard that ____ is pregnant and _____ is getting married!" - precocious people all over.

I'm just confused. I am not sure where I am supposed to be. I still believe that all my dreams and crazy aspirations are possible, yet I reeeeeally want to save for my own apartment and new car so I can get the hell out of my parent's house. I want to travel across the country, figure out what I want to be when I "grow up", go to graduate school for... (I'll get back to you), meet the man of my dreams, lose 25 pounds, get a puppy, run a marathon, and do all this now. I feel like I have seniorritis attributed to my crazy early twenties....ugh.

I feel at 25, you basically know who you are and you realize that is who you are going to be. You know what people you gravitate toward and those your avoid like the plague. You become anal about weird things, start becoming interested in news outside of your friend circle and TMZ, become slightly cynical of the way our country is run, formulate opinions you never knew you had, start bringing your jacket if the weather channel predicts rain, and maybe even have gotten your first gray hair...EEK!

Irresponsibly mature, haphazardly exciting and complex. That is what you are 25, and I don't know if I like you yet.