24 is a lot younger than I thought.

I'm going to make some COMMENTS on this.

Ten years ago, I was 14. Ten years ago, I was pretty sure that by the time I hit 24, I would be married, an executive, or famous. Now I have hit 24, and last weekend I was on my knees in the bathroom of the bar, throwing up Thai food because I haven’t learned not to mix wine, beer, and two different types of liquor. I still feel 14. Though at 14, I remember promising my mother I would never smoke weed or drink too much because “why would anyone do that to themselves?”. So, in a way, I am less of an adult now than I was at 14.

At least when I was 14, I could speak Hebrew. I could still remember my Torah portion. On my 14th birthday, I had braces, I was wearing a wristwatch, and I went to see The Book of Mormon with my parents. On my 14th birthday, I asked my Godmother to speak at my eighth-grade graduation, and I was nervous she would say no. I took selfies with a plastic birthday crown on, and I ran cross country, and my dog Joe was still alive. My hair was long and half purple, and I really only wore one shirt because it was soft and made me feel safe. I was so excited about high school.

Now, I am cowering at the idea of being an adult—of being almost halfway through my twenties. I am scared of time slipping past and hitting an age where all of a sudden, I look up and realize that my eyes have been half closed, my whole life has passed me by, and I didn’t make a lasting impact on anyone.

I thought 24 was old, but now that I’m 24, I think I've disappointed myself with how young I still feel. I had thought I would do more.

But then I look at where I am at now, and it’s really not too bad. It’s actually pretty incredible. When I was 14 I couldn’t drive, I couldn’t dance, I couldn’t install shelves by myself or keep plants alive. I couldn’t find joy in cooking things while making up the recipes. I definitely didn’t get excited about cleaning my oven. I couldn’t see when my friends were struggling and what I could do to help them. I couldn’t schedule my own doctor's appointments ( I still don’t want to, but I can). I didn’t think of myself as an artist.

My perception of all that life contained was smaller when I was 14. I saw life as a smooth sheet of paper that I could draw a line on from 14 to 24. A to B. What I didn’t realize is that the paper of my life was hardly flat. The paper of my life has been crumpled up and smoothed out and ripped in half and taped back together with other college-lined sheets, newspaper, and tissues. The paper of my life has been used to paper mache party decorations and mop up bloody noses. The paper of my life is covered in scribbles of notes with arrows pointing to paragraphs asking, “IS THIS SOMETHING???”.

There were times when I thought it would be easier to just throw the whole paper out rather than deal with making sure I held onto all the pieces. But now that I’m 24, I am looking at the paper in front of me and realizing it is so much more interesting than a boring old flat sheet. The texture gives my life mountains, and the wear and tear has taught me how to tape things together and staple them when the time comes. My paper is covered in my friends' lipstick stains and coffee rings, reminding me how lucky I am to know them and be loved by them. The paper of my life has pieces torn off and glued back on that I used to write notes and songs and scripts. And under some scribbles are the best parts of my paper- the Greek Mythology facts and Dr. Who drawings made in glitter pen dated 2014.

I hope that 14-year-old Ruby looks at the paper we’ve made of our lives and sees how much more blank space there still is to fill. I hope she understands that this is not a failure but a possibility to create. We have so much more space to fill with tears and love letters and jokes and crude drawings— we can learn to make origami or paper airplanes! Maybe at some point, we could finally make a spitball and shoot it through a straw.

I believed in my capacity to create to the point that I worry I’ve disappointed her. But I don’t know if I could disappoint someone when she believes so strongly in my capabilities.

Maybe I need to shift my focus to making sure that when I’m 34, I can look back and be proud of the 24-year-old I was. So I can point to the pieces of paper we have filled in the last decade and say, “Look at this world you’ve created out of a boring, flat sheet of paper.” Then I’ll do it again in another 10 years. And maybe, I’ll finally make a dentist appointment on my own.