Here and Now

I spent so much time wanting to grow up. Trying to grow up.
Trying to act like an adult...
Now all I want is to be a kid again.
Just for a little while. Just a day.
Just an hour.

I wrote this in a journal when I was 15. They're not my original words; I copied them from a Star Wars novel (nerdy, I know) in which the main character is plagued by philosophical conundrums as he faces adulthood. He is also too introspective for his own good. Sounds just like me.

I've come a long way since 15, or at least I'd certainly like to think so. Now that I'm 19, reading that quote again (and feeling the same way I did when I copied it at 15) has made me realize something about myself: I often find myself looking forward to the next big thing. In elementary school, I looked forward to intermediate school. In intermediate school, I couldn't wait to be in middle school. In middle school, I felt I couldn't possibly be complete until I got to high school, where I spent so much time preparing for college.

Preparing for and looking forward to the future is not a bad thing in itself, but I do it to an extremely unhealthy extent. I think so much about my future that I forget that there's a present. On the rare occasion that I do manage to come back to the present, I find myself lost and confused as to where I am now and what I'm doing here.

Why do I worry about tomorrow when each day has enough trouble of its own?

Jesus sure knew what He was talking about on that Mount.