Proud... and Scared.

I was a Nutrilon Kid. So proud.

Anyway. It's almost seventeen years of me living in the planet. Seventeen. It's kinda big, the number. The days of me as a four, six, eight, ten, thirteen, fifteen, and at last sixteen years old always flashes back. Just remembering me as a four years old, buying my first 'thick' book with writings in it. And my first storybook that has 200+ pages. My first best friend, my first glasses with -0.75 on both lenses and now it grew to -1.50 on both lenses. My first pair of wedges, my first professional custom-fit dress. My first boyfriend. My first love. My first heartbreak. My first ring that leads to the collection I'm growing now. That one time when I stumbled in to Giuseppe Zanotti's website and realises that I LOVE shoes. Another point when I stumbled to style.com and seaofshoes, and just know that I'm passionate about clothes and fashion. First class of Biology and I know I'm going to like it. First class of Chem and I know I'm going to hate it. It's been a looooooooooooooooong journey I'm in and it's even longer (and bigger, and better, wait, not better but best) future I'm having. 

Twenty days.

I've managed everything for my closed-celebration of my birthday. All that left are some leftover details and several piece of things that I need to take care of. I'm so happy and nervous that I'm turning seventeen. I mean, you'll sign up and get an ID, that certifies that you're a legal civilian of the country. That driver's license you had been waiting for a long time. A new responsibility. Another year and you're able to attend those fashion after parties. I mean... You're seventeen and you're lawfully legal! There's something about being so grown up yet you're grown up enough to go to jail at the same time. Creepy.