Today is my last day of being a teenager. I'm glad to have those years over with because I was just wasting them anyway. I'm just worried that nothing will change in the next decade.

Honestly, I had thought that by now I would have gotten drunk and/or laid at least once. I spent my adolescence rebelling rebellion, and I did everything so right that it began to feel wrong. I'm not saying that I harbor a desire to go on a reckless bender, but I wish I felt comfortable enough--with myself, with others--to loosen up.

My ambitions in life so exceed any plausible reality that I'm afraid I'll never be happy.

All of my friends are busy with their own business tomorrow, and I felt too guilty to arrange any birthday celebration for myself. I'm going to spend the day like any other: with my family, convincing myself that this should be enough.

I'm nervous to the point of nausea at the realization that I will have to socialize with Deanna over the next few days (my brother's birthday is Aug. 7). I haven't spoken to her since her temper tantrum on Father's Day, and I was coping well pretending that she didn't exist.