Grown Up?

Sometimes I wonder to myself, about anything, really. Today I think my entire life has fallen into place.I stand at a crossroad of understanding, basking in this undeserved sunshine. But, it is at this very moment that I'm bored.
I am seventeen. I live highschool. I tasted college. I fell in love. I was cheated on. I had learned my lesson from countless romantic comedies that that was not my cue to brood but to leave,  and I came to an early realization that my life revolves not around the love of one man, but around the good of all men.
 My best friend and I joke that all we want to do is simply change the world. Maybe for him, it is a joke, but that is all I want to do. I abandoned petty foolishness when I left Yale. Every weekend I volunteer with a nun from Kenya who I idolize because she had almost nothing and made the lives of so many better, including my own. Maybe none of this makes sense. Maybe my stream of consciousness sounds similar to gibberish. I'll make it simple.
Today my mom asked me when I became a woman, and I replied, "somewhere between June 5 and September 23." Possibly, I look physically different. I cut my really long hair down to a bob because, to me, short hair equates power. I lost about thirty pounds, and my skin cleared. However, mom, I don't think I am grown up simply because I write this right now.