Sessions with Sydney is a weekly column by features editor Sydney Ray. For more installments of Sydney’s ideas, opinions and ramblings, check out the opinions page, and check back every Friday for a new issue.

March 19, 2010. I had been counting down the days to this date for years on end. It was the day I would turn 18.

In my mind, my 18th birthday signified my whole life changing. I pictured an overwhelming sense of liberation that freed me to follow my every whim.

Due to strict rules growing up, I have always had a slightly rebellious side to me. Although I never really followed through with any of my disobedient ideas, they ran rampant in my mind.

On turning 18, I imagined being able to do whatever I pleased, whenever I pleased. The concept of having only the rules I set in place myself was beyond beautiful to me.

Well, it happened. Last Friday was the big day, the day I had been waiting for.

Although at first I was excited as I woke up, I soon realized that not as many things as anticipated had changed.

Sure, I can legally gamble now.

But if I seriously mess anything up, I can also go to jail or prison, rather than just getting a slap on the wrist and going to a juvenile detention center.

Sure, I can legally buy tobacco products.

But my parents can no longer play the get-out-of-jail-free card for me.

I am now legally responsible for myself. While this does entitle me to more privileges, it also means more responsibility is placed on me –