It's been a while.

And you haven't changed at all.

Cheesecake, misconduct, and eyeliner.

Today was my eighteenth birthday. I'm pleased to say that I was very happy with the way things turned out.

Around one, I left to pick up Heasu at her house and had quite a time trying to figure out where she lived. We went back home and hung out for a while. She gave me this ridiculously cute birthday card that was rolled up into a scroll and stuffed into a construction paper box. Her present was twenty dollars and a jar of Nutella, which I think is absolutely hilarious. I love that lady.

Around two thirty, we changed into our dresses and left at three to go pick up Joanne, Justin, and Jenny in Cypress. Justin was not in semi-formal wear. I was worried because all of us girls were in dresses, but he made it work, somehow.

Jessica came over around four thirty, at which point I called Lan. As I predicted, she would be fashionably late and would instead arrive at the restaurant, so off we went.

The dinner itself was a bit of a riot. Around the table, the seating arrangement was Heasu, me, Justin, and Lan on one side, then Joanne across from Heasu, Jenny, and Jessica on the end side. I think I was smart to put Justin and Lan together. They had a mini bonding event.

After dinner, we walked around Downtown Disney for a while until Joanne and I dragged everyone else to Sephora. She bought me this gorgeous highlighter compact while Lan pushed Justin around, teaching him the basics of successful Sephora-shopping. ("Justin, what's always a sure-go?" "Expensive brands!" "And what are the two most expensive brands?" "Chanel and Dior!") I put eyeliner on Jenny, and it turned out to be really cute.

My cat became quite a hit when we got back. Justin kept picking her up and holding her, all the while attempting to maintain that he didn't like cats. I took a picture of him kissing her on the head. It was adorable.

Then it got pretty chaotic. Heasu ran out of my room with black eyeliner in her hand, and then all of a sudden, Joanne and Heasu were holding Justin down on the couch while Lan put it on him. And the sad part was that after she was done, he actually looked semi-decent. Lan and Joanne were cooing all over him, telling him that he was pretty and that he needed to come to school like that. All of this I got on video. Honestly, I think he enjoyed the attention. When he has his own son, he's going to tell him, "When I was your age, I was already being invited to senior girl's birthday parties! What are you doing still hanging around with eighth grade girls?" Oh, Justin. You star, you.

Then Jessica and Justin went home, and slowly the number dwindled down. Lan and I uploaded my pictures on Facebook and had fun tagging and writing descriptions. I politely declined to upload any pictures or video of Justin in his eyeliner, so please don't ask. I'm trying to preserve what little dignity he has left. See, I can be a good person.

Essentially, it was a hectic but gratifying day.

I just can't pet Andrew's hair anymore. Oh well.

At times like these.

I'm grateful that my hair is long again.

Then reality hits.

And I realize that I am dreading Monday.

Eighteen is such a foreign, unfamiliar number. Everyone's treating it like it's the best thing in the world, but there is absolutely nothing to celebrate. You vote, you smoke, you can be tried as an adult. Whoop-dee-doo. I'm excited.

I'm trying to hang on to my childhood before it slips away. All I wanted tomorrow was a balloon. A freaking balloon. Doesn't need to be five, doesn't need to be twenty, doesn't need to be those pretty, shiny Mylar balloons. Just one stupid helium balloon.

Balloons are such a classic symbol of our childhood, and I'm just trying to cherish every last bit of mine before it's lost to me completely.

Yet no one will grant me this one wish. It's just a freaking balloon.

I don't know what to do. I don't want to sound cliche, but I'm really not looking forward to my birthday.

Last week of being seventeen.

I have to admit, I'm sad to see my childhood go.

Eighteen used to seem so far away, and now that it's here it feels unreal. There are a whole lot of things that come with turning eighteen, which I don't know if I'm ready for, but I guess I have no other choice.

In a week I'll be an adult, free to vote and free to drive others as I like. I feel so much younger than most of my friends, yet here I am, among the oldest.

Life is odd in this respect. A humorless paradox. Oh well.

Onwards, I suppose.

You make me feel.

Things that I never thought I'd feel again. Pure, delicious, sinful things. And from you, of all people.

Yet, somehow, it's still wrong. So horribly, horribly wrong.

But that doesn't stop me.

It sure doesn't stop you.

Confetti and things.

My parents keep bugging me about what I want to do for my birthday.

And I've been thinking that I've always wanted a surprise party.

Except you can't really ask for that, can you?

And I could just.

Eat you up.

Wanting.

If there was one thing that I thought I had control over in my college applications, it was my personal statement.

I had this great essay written out, all about me tutoring Andrew and how wonderful it was and such. And I felt like I finally had a chance of getting myself out there.

Until my mother told me otherwise. Apparently, she and my dad had hired this college expert who wanted me to write about something generic like being an only child. This expert lady thinks that my essay is "too unique" for anyone to relate to.

I think that's absolutely ridiculous. In the end, I agreed to talk to this lady, but I don't want to have to change my essay at all. I don't want to write about me going to the Philippines to discover my roots and have some sort of self-discovery. I don't want to write about how being the only child affected me in the long run. I want to write about Andrew.

But the thing is that it's not just about Andrew. I don't want to write about Andrew, I want to write about Andrew and Justin and Nicky and Austin and all of the other lovely kids that mean so much to me. I want to write about them so much, I feel that if I don't, I just might explode. There are all these emotions inside me that I need to make public. I feel like I have to let the world know, because I'm so, so happy right now.

But how? How can I write that I love going to school because I look forward to Justin's quirky charm or Nicky being fabulous or Andrew and his endearing naivete?

If I can't write about that, then what?

What else is there?