How Old Am I?

Lately I've found myself wondering. How old are you? What the hell were you thinking?
My physical age has absolutely nothing to do with my mental maturity--but I'm not quite sure if I'm older or younger.
People always get the impression that I'm older. I've always acted in a very sophisticated manner. I relate better with people older than me (just take a look at my 22-year-old boyfriend and the fact that I totally LOVE my brother's 22-year-old best friend), and then there are times I wish I'd just grow up.
Today was one of those days.
A bunch of us from my floor were headed down to Main Campus with one purpose in mind--catching the bus to go apple picking. Yes, apple picking. The last time I went apple picking was...oh, let's see, first grade. But while we sat on the bus happily chatting away, I realized more and more how childish I am.
I packed a lunch for myself. I got a bagel from Goldstein, grabbed my peanut butter and jelly from my food stocks and put them in a Ziploc bag labeled CAROLYN. I feel like I should have handed it to someone when I got to the bus just how teachers used to collect everyone's lunch for field trips, but it just stayed in my bag.
Then,for some reason that I can't recall, I was able to direct the conversation to Build-A-Bear Workshop. Yes, that is truly the sign of a sophisticated collegiate young adult...right? I took it a step further. Everyone agreed that BABW is a fun place (my excitement did seem to outweigh most people's though), and then I pulled out my Stuff Fur Stuff Card (yes, I have one) and explained that for every $100 I spend at the store, I would get rewarded. Not a credit card--that would seem rather adult--just a reward system.
Then I became the malicious part of the younger mentality. I let things that people said, did, and thought get to me. I started judging, and critically.
In all fairness, this was a split for me. I find myself mature in that I've become so very comfortable with myself. I don't have to try to be someone anymore. I just don't like fake people, so I don't let myself be fake around people. I think that takes a lot of personal work and maturity, something that I'm so happy, so very happy I've been able to develop recently. So in a way, I know that there are going to be a lot of people my age around me that haven't found that within themselves just yet, and they're still struggling with self-esteem issues.
But I feel petty and so immature when I decide to voice my complaints to those people around me. I need an outlet, but sometimes I wish I could be a little less critical. I'm so quick to judge (even if those judgments don't keep me from getting to know you), and willing to voice those observations.
Whatever, I never said that I'm perfect; I just know who I am and not willing to pretend to be something else for someone else's approval. When it comes down to it, you have to spend the rest of your life with yourself. So why worry about the others?
I hate my room here. For some reason it doesn't feel like home in my room. I feel like it's a room where all my stuff is--not my room. It's a hotel. On my way to home. I think it's completely lacking a Gabriel element.
It's tough, entering college while in a relationship. You miss that person so completely and thoroughly that you're ready to give up school because being with that person is so much better. But you like school, and obviously you're not going to do that. So you try to make the best of it by making awesome friends, but you're bonding time is often cut short by phone time with that person who's always on your mind, the one whom you text the most, shows up the most on your call list.
Here's the choice: Talk to that person for several glorious hours and miss out on some serious bonding or tell them you'll call them back?
It's a tough one. Usually my Gabriel wins out, because no offense to anyone in Syracuse, you just can't beat my angel. When you're in a relationship like mine, you want nothing more than to hear his voice. Telling you that it'll be okay and that you are, in fact, on his mind all the time.
I also miss those friends that I love so well. I still miss the fact that Katie and I could finish each other's sentences. Or the fact that Felicia appreciates my ability to recall very specific details of every single episode in The O.C.
I don't have those people here in New York yet. Well, I'll never find another Katherine Mary. And I'm sure that people would be scared to see another Felicia Fay walk the earth (of course, she'd be doing the raptor walk in a completely high fashion out of control outfit that only she could pull off and make hott). <<<<Maybe, just maybe, I'm getting homesick?
I thought I didn't get homesick.
I get people sick though. I want my people so badly.