ImaginaAAAaaaation.

"I don’t want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don’t tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth. And if that is sinful, then let me be damned for it!"
— A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams


Have you ever wondered what would happen if everything you ever imagined as a child were real?
Because it would be awesome. It would rain apple juice. Sofas would be made out of gummy bears. Dirt would be made out of crushed oreos. 
And people wonder why I was fat as a kid. 
I never really believed in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy--although I did applaud their practice of rewarding children-- but even without them, my fabled world of adolescence was straight up magical (and delicious).
At the same time, it was horrible--terrifying--scary.
I mean, it would really suck if every time I flushed the toilet a monster would grab me and take me with him (or her) into a world of smelly darkness. It would really suck if every time I closed my eyes in the shower a demon that resembled Paige's former love interest (Charmed reference) would take me with him into some undetectable cave in the underworld. It would really really suck if at the stroke of midnight the clothes in my closet would come alive and try to strangle me. And although it might be kinda cool if dinosaurs really were my best friends or if street lights really did have feelings, what happens when my dino pal tries to eat me? Or when I realize I don't care about what streetlights have to say?
I guess if things went sour, I could always revert back to the if-I-can't-see-you-you-can't-see-me trick or take cover under my blanket that doubles as an invisibility cloak and invincible fortress.
Fast forward thirteen years...who am I kidding, I believed in the Toilet Monster well into the fifth grade...minor detail. Fast forward roughly thirteen years and now I have to face real problems (ie. Acne and student loans). It's no longer cute to be fat. It's no longer acceptable to sing while you use a public bathroom (and then run away after flushing). And no matter how long I hide under my blanket, all of my monsters will still be there waiting for an opportune moment to kidnap something bigger than me--my future. 
Now I'm eighteen and I'm finally starting to understand that until now, all of my battles have been fought for me. A monster never got close enough to eat me because I had an older sister, a mommy, a daddy, grandparents, and comfort food to protect me from harm's way. I've never really been alone. And even if I was alone, I never really felt alone.
Well.
In two months, I'm going to college.
College.
Is that real life? Or is that some kind of pre-packaged cookie?
I wish it were a cookie because then I'd know what to do with it (eat it, le duh). Unfortunately it's real life and I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no idea what I'm going to do without my wonderful hometown that I love even more than processed food. And I'm afraid that when I turn off the lights, I won't be scared, I'll be lonely.
But these anticipations are just possibilities entangled in something much bigger--because college isn't a cookie, it's magic. Sure I'm scared shitless, but everything that I ever wanted to accomplish, anything that I ever wanted be real can become tangible through secondary education. I'm glad I'm not a kid anymore. Because now I know that I'm psyching myself out. Monsters aren't real. I made them up. And although I don't want to leave my hometown, my friends, my memories behind, I can't wait until these two months are up and college transforms from magic to reality.