I registered to vote on Nov. 8 promptly at 7 a.m. in order to have time before the bell rang at school. The black marker floated between candidates printed professionally in black ink on white paper. I voted on Nov. 8 with a piece of paper resembling the dreaded Scantron students receive for tests. I walked through my school day pondering the moment the machine clicked to 30 when I inserted my ballot. I watched the Google Live of the electoral vote results of the presidential race while I read Metamorphosis and Last Child In the Woods for my classes.

Growing up I always imagined turning 18 as a magical world where I would wake up one morning and have all my wishes come true like the movies. Or I would have a great group of friends, a boyfriend and be accepted into the greatest college in the United States. None of this happened when I turned 18 on a Wednesday. When I turned 18, I stressed about essays and tests due the following day. While I may head to Lakeland University next year, my stress levels continue to rise over financial aid, scholarships and grants. Constant thoughts running through my mind: “How will you afford college?” and “Are you really ready to live on your own?” Because, while I may legally be an adult, my mind shouts a completely different idea: “Ramen noodles for lunch, again?”

Beyond the college and election thoughts, peers barrage me with questions of class lectures, sports events and extracurricular activities. When you turn 18, none of the questions disappear. Rather they begin to pile up, one on top of another, until someone pulls the wrong Jenga block and all your carefully planned life falls apart. At least, I feel that way. Peers rely on me even more now that I am an adult. Magically, I am supposed to know all the answers to how the electoral college runs, where to buy the best gas, and what the answer to question 18 was on the latest psychology test. Again, having the numbers one and eight referred to next to each other as an age does not appear to be a gate into the Secret Garden of answers to the world. We would have a cure to cancer otherwise!

The idea behind allowing 18-year-olds buy lottery tickets (No, I have not bought one.), get tattooed (I am considering a Harry Potter reference one.), buy a pack of cigarettes (Sorry, “smoking corner” but I will not be attending the daily meeting.), and vote (I voted!) overwhelms me to a point where I wake up in the middle of the night screaming from all the power I now hold for my life. Suddenly, the government allows me to hold all this power I never held before and nearly screams “Go wild!” My high school teachers, on the other hand, tell me to write an essay on fairy tales in a week. My parents remind me to do the dishes and let the dogs out. While the government tells me I am now an adult, other figure authorities tell me I am still a child living under their rule. Where is the balance?

Overall, when I turned 18 in high school my mind exploded with all the possibilities I now hold while frantically finishing essays and notes. Perhaps the monumental birthday only affected my mindset, but I like to think I am not alone in this aspect. Nearly every senior will go through similar thoughts at some point this school year. For underclassmen, let me tell you now: 16 years old seems big now, but 18 years old holds more weight than any “sweet” 16. Be sure to know what to do when all the power arrives.