I’d always made myself believe I was invincible, never worrying about the warnings that’d been thrown at me. Each year going by was bringing sixteen closer and closer. Everything about sixteen had been appealing, but what stuck out the most was the jingling of the keys to a car that would soon be mine. Patience at fifteen, with a permit and no way out, is more difficult than anything I’d ever imagined. My parents had laughed when sixteen came and I had my escape. The only problem was I wasn’t really free.

They’d thrown out ideas of a job, which could provide me things I’d come to expect to be given to me. At an innocent age of sixteen, a job sounded delightful, offering me a way out. With money I could buy a car and gas. With that money I could buy my freedom. Would they, could they, call me a child when I could show them I could take care of myself? The one question I’d thought but, the questions I should’ve asked were, “Could I do this? Could I handle a job and school?” And at the time I believed it would be easy. I’d watched my mom be strong for us, while handling a job, and knew I could handle a job.

The balance between my job and school was and still is difficult to keep even. Eight hours of work at school, then four or five hours of work at night, an hour or two of homework, and then finally managing to fall asleep somewhere between eleven and midnight. But what a job has taught me is to see responsibility in a completely different way. I’d always thought responsibility was something you could choose to do, the consequences of not doing them never bothering me. But after working for almost two years, I’ve learned you can choose not to face your responsibilities but you should face them in order to grow.